


The Bonds of Duty

by Six_Lily_Petals



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Awkward Flirting, Belonging, Budding Love, Canon-Typical Violence, Corporal Punishment, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Secrets, Fluff, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Makeup Sex, Manipulation, Multi, Orgasm Delay, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Romance, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisition has a mysterious Herald from a continent that it seems no one has heard of.  Even the renowned Nightingale has had no luck in revealing her past.  She has given herself to the cause of the Inquisition, but she has found herself wanting more from its Commander.</p><p>This follows the Inquisitor as her past eventually catches up to her.  She will be torn between two worlds and have to make painful decisions as she deals with the repercussions of her lies and attempt to keep her family from destroying the Inquisition. </p><p> <br/>Cullen/Inquisitor heavy romance</p><p> </p><p>NSFW smut Chapters: 10, 13, 17, 21</p><p>Original Inquisitor and background that mostly follows the events of Inquisition.  <b>Warning: Plot spoilers. </b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Commitment

Cullen felt invisible pins slowly pushing and pulling in and out of the back of his neck and head.  He knew when he woke up this morning that his symptoms were going to be particularly trying today.  He made his way to the War Room for the recurring meeting with the Inquisitor and her advisors.  As he walked from his office tower through the castle he silently thanked the Maker for their fortune in finding such a stronghold for the Inquisition after the surprise attack and hasty retreat from Haven.  No one could have planned for a blighted dragon attack, and yet he felt that he should have.  Now their enemy had shown himself and his power.  A corrupted magister who thought himself a god, commanded an army of Red Templars _and_ a dragon.  Nothing could have prepared them before, but now, now he would ensure that they were ready for any invading force. 

He had already seen what the Inquisition could accomplish with the constant reports from the field.  The Inquisitor was constantly traveling Thedas tackling all manners of problems the people faced, from darkspawn to demons and even corrupt politicians attempting to take advantage of the chaos the rifts had wrought.  Rifts, tears into the fade itself that poured out every manner of demon imaginable, Cullen shook his head.  After seeing a circle fall to demonic possession and a Knight-Commander fall to insanity, he had thought that there could not be any more shocking surprises left in his life.  It’s never pleasant to be proven wrong. 

Cullen let himself into the War Room.  There to greet him were the Ambassador and the Spymaster, “The Inquisitor is late?”  It was odd for that to ever happen, she always took her duties seriously and never meant to waste the precious time of others.

Ambassador Josephine responded, “She informed me that she would not make it today due to a personal matter that came up suddenly.”

Leliana filled in the details, “She left with Dorian early this morning for Redcliffe.  He had received a letter from back home and it seems that the Inquisitor has taken it upon herself to ensure that the rendezvous does not turn malicious.”

Of course Leliana would know the personal business of everyone in Skyhold.  There was no doubting her skills as a master of information, then he was struck with realization, “Wait, just the two of them?  The area is hardly stable enough for her to not take an entire team.”

“I agree Commander, but the situation in the area has improved due in great part to her efforts and the journey will be short.  Dorian has proven to be quite capable in the field and so has the Inquisitor.  Besides, I have sent scouts to keep an eye on them to ensure their safety.”  Leliana’s demeanor was calm but he knew that she also disapproved of the outing. 

He squeezed the hilt of his sword tighter to try and collect himself; the pain in his head was beginning to worsen.  This meeting had better be short. 

“Seeing as the Inquisitor is out for the day, I thought we could take this opportunity to discuss her specifically.  As you all know, I have attempted to find out more on her background since she first appeared in Haven.  For the most part, we have nothing.  Josephine’s contacts have no trade with anyone in Bosquel, many have never even heard of the country prior to our inquiries.”

“I know you don’t like secrets Leliana, but does it really matter at this point?  We know the Inquisitor to be committed to the cause, she has proven herself time and again.  Does knowing where she grew up really matter?”  Cullen was surprised to see that she had continued her efforts in this respect. 

“I must say that I agree with Leliana, the more influence that the Inquisition gathers, the more dangerous unknown pasts can be.  We would not want to be taken by surprise at some noble attempting to blackmail our leader.”  Josephine was always matter of fact and certainly presented a good argument.

Cullen rubbed at his throbbing temples, “Have you tried using the Iron Bull’s connections?  I understand that Par Vollen is the closest nation to Bosquel.”

“According to Bull, there were only a few brief encounters a few centuries ago.  The Qunari do not know the source of the turmoil but claim that Bosquel is in a constant state of war and has armies so well trained they would be the envy of any nation.  According to the reports, the skirmishes were swift and brutal, with reports that the whole of the army could change tactics and adapt to any offensive strategy _instantly_ on the field.”  To hear such an accolade from a Qunari report gave Cullen pause.  They would never admit openly that any nation could rival that of Par Vollen.  Leliana continued, “Of course Bull says the official stance is that there is nothing of value to be gained from any contact or conquest of Bosquel.  Therefore, nothing further has been attempted and all of the information we could get from him is centuries old.  I have yet to speak to anyone who has actually met a Bosquellian aside from the Inquisitor.”

Josephine tapped her quill to her cheek, “Constant war?  Perhaps that explains why she is so familiar with troop tactics and strategy”

“They’re actually referred to as Osai.”  Cullen corrected automatically.  He stared down at the map and began to wonder just how far away Bosquel might actually be from Thedas.  “Bosquel vaguely translates to ‘land for the people’ even though the ruling structure is similar to that of an Empire.  The ruling classes are a matriarchal hierarchy with the Matron Empress as the top figure head.”  He looked up from the map to see the stunned looks from the two ladies.

“Decima has spoken to you about her country?”  Josephine was curious, but Leliana seemed irked that she was not informed sooner. 

“Not often and even then it’s always generalizations.  She’s never spoken of her family, she’s actually become quite adept at avoiding that topic.”  He rolled his eyes at Decima’s self-induced privacy then he noticed that Leliana now smirked at him, crossing her arms against her chest.

“So you _have_ been spending as much alone time with her as I thought.”

“What?!  No, I…we just, that is to say…no.”  Cullen could feel the heat rising from his armor to flame his cheeks.  “We just talk, nothing more.  So you can take your imaginations someplace else.” 

“The Iron Bull has traveled with her for months and even he has been unable to get that much from her and you know how sound his methods are in getting results.”  Leliana broke into a full smile with her next comment, “I think she likes you Commander.”

He raked his hand through his hair, now the pain was spreading down his spine, prickling at his ribs.  “Honestly, I don’t need this right now.  It’s nothing, I swear.  Besides, such a relationship is highly inappropriate.” 

“As you say, Commander.”  Leliana seemed quite pleased at his sudden discomfort with the topic.  “but if you do happen to learn anything else, I request that you inform me immediately.  Even this small tidbit is helpful.”

“Certainly.”  He pulled himself to his full height then offered a shallow bow, “If you will excuse me, I have some pressing matters that can no longer wait.”  He did not linger for a response before heading out of the room. 

_She liked him?_ She had an odd way of showing it, if such a thing could possibly be true.  All of their interactions maintained a certain level of distance, professionalism.  He thought more and recalled that when they managed to speak of personal topics or preferences, her manners softened.  She smiled more, laughed more, _maybe she…_ a sharp spasm struck his side causing him to break his gait.  A few more quick steps and he was outside, inhaling deeply, he pushed aside his thoughts of the Inquisitor.  He truly didn’t have time for such boyish nonsense, he needed to get to his office and attempt to calm his tremors before they got any worse.  There was still much to do.  He looked at the height of the sun and was glad the day was nearing its end. 

Hours later, near dusk he heard the horns signal a party’s arrival.  He knew the orders of the day by heart and was aware that the only party that could be approaching was the Inquisitor.  He rose from his desk with some care, hoping not to jar the daggers floating in his mind with a sudden movement.  He stepped out on to the battlements to see the riders cross the bridge.  He had wished that Leliana was wrong about the size of the party, but there were only the two riders.  Cullen let out a heavy gruff of frustration and decided to meet them at the stables. 

As he drew near them, Dorian ignored the Commander and made his way past Cullen, headed straight for the castle proper.  Cullen was glad that the typically mouthy Tevinter had chosen to keep his thoughts to himself for a change. 

Decima handed her mount over the Master Dennent, then turned to him.  She offered no greeting. 

“Although I am glad your solo mission went well Inquisitor, I would strongly recommend that such endeavors include a contingent of soldiers, if you are not to take some of your inner party.”  Cullen couldn’t stop himself, “What was so important that you would take on such a risk with just the two of you?”

“We all have demons in our lives that won’t give us a moment’s rest.  They have to be confronted, today was that day for Dorian.”

He did not allow his stunned reaction to show.  He recognized the demon comment as an obscure reference to his own issues with lyrium withdrawal.  It has only been a few weeks since he had confessed his struggle in his attempts to quit taking lyrium.  All she knew was that he would sometimes have bad days, but he never let her know the extent to which his pain plagued him.  He glanced once again at Dorian’s retreating figure, “Alright, just please be more careful in the future?  There’s no cause for unnecessary risk.” 

“Any risk that I take to task I have already deemed necessary, I’m not a child Commander.”  She spoke to him in a cool tone devoid of any emotion, but he could tell that he had unintentionally crossed a line.

“By your will, Inquisitor.”  He saluted with a hand across his chest and she inclined her head as a dismissal.

****

Full darkness had fallen over Skyhold and Cullen stared down the candle on his desk, nearly burnt down to the base.  He mentally debated getting another one to continue working or head to his quarters to feign sleep he knew would not come.  He moved to snuff the flame when a knock came at his door.

“Enter.”  He leaned back in his chair, prepared to address whatever urgent matter that called for a runner at such a late hour.  He was surprised to see the Inquisitor peer around the heavy wooden door.

“Inquisitor!”  He was suddenly on his feet, biting back a groan at the shooting pain the movement caused at the base of his skull.

“Do you have a moment?”  She still stayed at the threshold of his office, waiting for the invitation to stay or a dismissal.

“Yes, always.  Please enter.”  He noticed a full tray in her arms and made his way around the desk to take her overloaded burden.  The tray had a teapot, meat pies, assorted cheeses, pickled onions and two cups.  The sight alone was appetizing but the smell had him near drooling.  He set the tray at the center of his desk while Decima pulled a chair up to sit opposite him.  He silently cursed the Spartan state of his office, knowing that the chair she chose was not at all comfortable.  Retaking his seat, he was still at a loss of words for the Inquisitor’s uncommon appearance this late at night.  Thankfully, she spoke first.

“I noticed you didn’t take dinner in the hall.  I spoke with Bull and he said that you might be suffering from a nasty headache as he remarked you were a bit more irritable in the training ring this afternoon.”  He knew that shewas aware of the cause of his headache, but he hoped that Bull was not.  She looked down at the tray to avoid his bewildered stare.  “I’m sure my terseness earlier was not helpful either.  Dorian had a rough day and I should not have directed my frustration with his situation at you.”

“Please, think nothing of it.  I was a bit rash myself, I know you can handle yourself out there, although it’s hard to not worry sometimes.”  His words took a moment to register with him, “uh, I mean that…that is to say that _we_ were concerned.  Leliana sent scouts to follow in case something were to happen.” 

He winced inwardly hoping she would not try to investigate the cause of his rambling.  She had stopped playing with the empty teacup and looked up at him, her broad smile sending a gentle wave of easiness through him.  She then gestured to the spread before them, “I hope that my peace offering is to your liking?”

“I had not realized that I was so hungry until you arrived.  This is wonderful, thank you Inquisitor.”

“As we were finishing up in Redcliffe we stopped an inn that served similar fare.  You should have heard Dorian complaining!  He turned his nose up at everything, so I chose to bring you the ones that garnered the particularly nasty insults from him.”  She laughed gently at the memory. 

Cullen raised a brow quizzically, “So a Ferelden barbarian would be glad to take the rejected meals of a Tevinter magister?”

She laughed freely at his tease, “Oh my, yes!  I have to admit that was my initial thought, but more kindly put dear Commander.”  She reached out and began to pour the tea for them.  “I assumed his distaste must indicate that these were more of a Ferelden specific treat.”

Cullen began to pick and choose from the assortment, finally unable to ignore his famished state.  “It is perfect.  My mother would serve similar meals growing up.  It’s not the luxurious delicacies they have in Tevinter, but they are just as enjoyable as a simple comfort food.”

The Inquisitor scoffed, “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Dorian grew up on snails and seaweed and profusely proclaiming that our palates were too uncultured to discern their exquisite explosions of flavor.”  She accompanied her comments with flourished hand gestures, clearly mocking Dorian’s flare for dramatics. 

Cullen laughed heartily into his hand to keep his dinner out of sight and she beamed at the sight of him, thoroughly pleased her performance earned such a reaction. 

“I like simple.”  She continued smiling as she prepared her own spread and began to delve into the Ferelden ‘dog food’ as Dorian had called it earlier. 

They ate in silence for the most part, both enjoying the quiet that came with the cessation of activities for the night.  There were no meetings, no runners, no nobles and no obligations.  Cullen was fully lost in the serenity of the moment.  The silence held no awkwardness and he refused to ruin it with any half thought out comment just for the sake of conversation that was not needed. 

“Thank you Inquisitor.”  Cullen expressed as she refilled his tea. 

“Commander, this has been one of the more pleasant meals I’ve had in a long time, but may I still ask a favor of you?”  She placed the teapot down with such delicacy, he wondered how such a fearsome warrior could be so effortlessly refined at times.

“You have only to ask.  I do believe that I am quite sufficiently in your debt at this point.” 

“May we refer to each other by our given names when we are like this?  When we don’t have to worry about the Inquisition?” 

“Of course!”  Failing to not sound over eager.  He tried to push back a rush of heat to his  cheeks, “I would like that.”

“Me too.  Thank you Cullen.”  He had noticed a while back that she made strides to hide her accent but the way she said his name made his skin prickle.  Her C’s had a faint click to them and it seemed she had added an H at the end, Cuh-lehn. 

“Inquis – Decima, I know you don’t like to speak of Bosquel, but I feel I need to ask.”  He noted her suddenly guarded expression, but she did not object to his inquiry.  “I know that you have given our cause more than anyone could possibly fathom, but what of back home?  Is there anything there, that might…who might need…”

She interrupted him with a soft smile, “I think I know what you mean.  I have no family to return to, I have no obligations that call for me – well, aside from one minor one.  But I plan on taking care of that _after_ my duties to the Inquisition.  I have fully committed myself to this cause and I swear I will not falter.”

She rose from her seat, Cullen mirrored the action.  “I need to head for my bed, today was rather long.”

Cullen stopped her movements toward the tray, “I’ll handle this, you go on.  I imagine that any trip with Dorian can be tiring.”

“Alright, but I also would like to inform you that in a few days I will head to the Storm Coast with Bull.”  She saw him stiffen then quickly added, “and a regular party, and the Chargers.  It’s just a short escort mission but I wanted to be sure you were aware.”  She reached for his hand that he had planted on the table, bracing himself for the argument that never came.  She squeezed it gently, “Thank you again for dinner.  I hope you are feeling better.”

Cullen watched her leave and belatedly realized that he did indeed feel better.  The pain was gone and the fatigue from the day had finally caught up with him.  He reveled in the idea that he might actually have a good night’s rest after all.  His words fell from him long after she was beyond earshot.

“Anytime…Decima.”


	2. People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull is forced to make a hard choice.

It should have been an easy mission.  Secure the beach, kill some ‘Vints, signal the dreadnaught and celebrate heavily afterward.  The Iron Bull redistributed his hulking weight in his saddle, churning through the events of the botched mission. 

‘ _You threw away an alliance between the Qunari and the Inquisition.  You have declared yourself Tal-Vashoth!’_

Gatt’s words still grated in his ears.  He closed his eyes to pinch the words out of his mind, but all he found were visions of the dreadnaught sinking into the ocean, a feat as impossible as the moon lighting on fire.  He was thankful that the trek back to Skyhold had been a silent one.  What charred his bones was the reaction of the Inquisitor.  Gatt point blankly blamed The Iron Bull for the dissolution of the alliance and discontinuation of the use of the Qunari spy network and she took the information as though he only commented on the changing weather.  Does nothing hold meaning for that woman?  Did she even realize the cost of her encouragement to save his men instead of sacrificing them for the good of the Inquisition?  He gritted his teeth at the thought and went through learned paces to mentally calm his frustration.  He breathed a sigh of relief when Skyhold was finally in sight. 

***

They had only been back for a matter of hours but Bull saw it.  His teeth seethed as he ordered a messenger to have the Inquisitor meet him on the battlements immediately.  He climbed the stairs with ease and waited.  The guard rotation was more predictable than a loose woman.  It wouldn’t be long now.

The Inquisitor joined him a few minutes later, “You needed to see me?”

Before he could answer, two men in Inquisition uniforms attacked.  One was actually able to wedge a dagger into his shoulder.  Decima lunged forward, “Bull!”

Bull waved her back, while pulling the dagger out and threw it deftly into the throat of one of the offenders, “I got it!”

The last one bit off an insult before Bull jellied up the pavement below the battlements with the would-be assassin’s body.

“Yeah, yeah.  My soul is dust but yours is scattered all over the ground, so…”  His small victory was interrupted by Decima’s touch to his arm.  He turned and found her shocked expression.  Oh for fuck’s sake, was that pity?  She thought to actually pity him!  He jerked away from her and approached the body of the first casualty. 

“I thought I might need backup.  Huh, guess I’m not even worth sending professionals for.”  He kicked the body to vent his resentment at the blatant insult.

By now she had schooled her features, crossing her arms against her chest.  “Your wound is more than likely poisoned.”

“I’m fine.”  He bit out.  “I’ve been dosing myself with the antidote, old habit.  As it is, it stings like shit, but that’s about it.  Damn it boss!  Could you fucking not look at me like that?”

He expected her to be taken aback but instead she bore her eyes deeper into him, “Like what, exactly?”

“I don’t need your damn pity.  What use has a Tal-va-fucking-shoth have for it?” 

“That’s what my concern for you amounts to?  For your men?  The Inquisition is not some _thing_ , it’s people, the few good people that are left amidst this chaos.”

“You think you have all the answers, dathrasi!”  He intentionally spit the slur in her face.  A flicker in her eyes let him know that she knew _exactly_ what it meant. His heart raced in excitement at the anger he planted there.  He wanted under skin, to peel it apart from her muscles and bones.  All of his disappointment, his resentment, his feeling of loss was poured into making her loose that damned calm mask she so conceitedly wore.  She came at him with daggers in both hands but he was ready for it, easiest attack to counter.

As soon as he gripped her hands he realized too late that she never meant to actually strike.  She used him as leverage to crack into the side of his face with her leg, then used the momentum from the sweeping motion to twist free of his clutches.  She put a small distance between them, certainly not retreating, but still allowing herself enough time to counter his incoming blows.  He quickly realized she stayed on the defensive on purpose; she was letting him beat her.  This stroked his anger to a boiling point, “You think you know The Iron Bull?  You infected my soul you filthy basra, how could you possibly have any claim to know me?!”

“Of course I don’t you stupid shit!  I gave you freedom, I gave you choice.  It was you who chose.  You who chose your people…”

“Pashaara!”  He charged again.  His duty, his honor now amounted to dust in a cold hearth.  She rolled away from the charge, having learned his tells from weeks in the field.  It was a comfort to know she didn’t waste all of her time wondering Thedas picking weeds.

“Listen to yourself, you have never called yourself Hissrad.  You are The Iron fucking Bull and you decided that shit a long time ago!” She waved back the guards who were flocking around them.  He could tell that their fighting and the sight of dead bodies had naturally drawn their attention.  He watched them mentally debating if they should intervene, trying to determine which of them was the least deadly. 

Bull continued his onslaught, landing few blows but with each successful hit, he reveled in the vibration he felt ripple through her.  Decima should have been tired, but after each of his hits, she returned in kind and it invigorated him.  She wasn’t going to quit unless he did.  She wasn’t going to give up this argument.

He saw Commander Cullen race from his office.  Most likely a cry-baby recruit had tattled on them.  He did have to appreciate Cullen’s keen awareness that coming between the two of them would be suicide as he chose to Decima from behind with pinning her arms to her sides.  She was obviously not done as she continued to struggle, ignoring the Commander’s shouts to stand down.  Iron Bull smirked as she began to slow, knowing that she felt the sting of being treated like an unruly child.  She noticed his amusement and with one final screech, kicked up, using Cullen’s body as a brace to land three successive blows with her heels right in Bull’s poisoned shoulder.  Bull fell backwards, reeling in pain, but refusing to allow her the satisfaction of a cry in agony that he tried to swallow.  The pain was just too much and he had to release the tension somehow, “Fucking vashedan!” 

“Will you live?  Or shall I find a large bosomed nurse maid whose fat tits you can suckle?”

Bull finally completely snapped.  He dropped to a knee, his whole body shaking with a hearty laugh.  The image began to form in his mind and he managed to laugh harder even with his bruised ribs.  He braced his bulking weight on his legs and caught the guards readying their stance for an advance, still completely confused about the scene they had just witnessed and what would happen next.  Cullen released his grip on Decima, in his own haze of confusion.  She walked up to Bull and teasingly kicked him in the ribs, “I’ll even make sure she’s a redhead”

Bull rolled back so he was sitting on his ass, looking up at her.  He did not hold back his genuine smile, knowing that he had chosen well.  It still stung like a bitch, but he now knew that this was his true path.  He just hated that she was right, that he had to finally face the life he had chosen years ago. 

“Boss, with punishments like that, I think I might try to piss you off more often.”

“Maker’s breath!  What is going on?!”  The Commander’s authoritative command voice boomed over them.  Bull cringed slightly, knowing that Cullen and the Inquisitor had become close.  He certainly had not thought this confrontation all the way through. 

“I apologize Commander, Bull and I were having a difference of opinion.”  She spoke as though they had only had a moderate debate over tea, not the all-out brawl that had her spitting the pooling blood out of her mouth.  She wiped her face and then flicked the collected blood to the pavement.  She pointed to Bull with her soiled hand, “You good?”

“Yeah Boss, all good.”  Bull then stood, brushing off the dust from being nearly prostrate on the ground.

She headed for the stairs that led down to the courtyard below.  Once her back was turned the Commander drew his sword and pressed it into Bull’s collar drawing blood that began to trickle down the blade itself.  He drew himself up as close as possible to Bull’s face, given the height difference and gritted out his threat that only the two of them could hear.  “I don’t give a nug’s flaming ass about what just occurred, but know it will _never_ happen again.  You lay a hand on her outside of a training ring and I will personally see your life ended in the most torturous way imaginable.  Are we clear?”

Bull’s first reaction was to diffuse the tension with some offhand joke, but he realized that Cullen did not fully understand the reconciliation that had happened between himself and the Inquisitor.  It then clicked that the Commander was dead serious and ready to act on his words, immediately if need be. 

“Yes Commander.”

Cullen took two steps back, bringing his sword away from Bull and up near his face.  He examined the blood, then glared at Bull once more. 

“Have Sister Leliana’s people clean this up, she’ll want to know about the infiltration.”  He barked at the nearest guard who leapt at the chance to run off from the tension between Bull and the Commander

Cullen lowered his sword to his side as he made his way back to the office tower.  Bull knew that he wouldn’t sheath his sword until it was cleaned.  Pretty boys like that took great care to keep things neat and orderly.  He shook his head as the guards were finally beginning to disperse, chuckling to himself.  Cullen may look like a pretty boy, but that hard-ass was the Commander for a reason.  Damn was The Iron Bull fucking brilliant in choosing these people to fight alongside.  Nothing but great times and glorious victories lay ahead.  Bull headed for the tavern for a well-earned drink, or ten to congratulate himself. 

***

Hours later Bull was enjoying a pint in his usual corner of the tavern, having already enjoyed in the company of his men.  He was thankful for his decision as well as the Inquisitor’s support for it.  He sighed heavily.  Usually he was the one who knew what people needed.  Through the crowd he saw a shimmer, light reflecting off polished armor.  Adjusting his posture he saw the Commander with reports in hand.  He began to wonder if they ever changed or if he just walked around with the same set all day.  He waved him over and saw his reluctant acquiescence as he marched into the corner.  Bull remained in his overly relaxed lounged posture, “You need something boss-man?”

Cullen did a poor job of hiding his sneer, “Not from you.  I have Sister Leliana’s report from your incident this afternoon.  I was looking for the Inquisitor.”

With all the runners and ravens in this blasted castle, he knew that the Commander was looking for more than just handing off a report.  It was an excuse.  It never ceased to amaze him how people found ways to make things more difficult than they needed to be.  He figured he would toss the Commander a little bone about his lady Inquisitor.

“Well, if you’re going to see Red again, would you let her know that I have learned that the Inquisitor knows Qunlat?  She may find that interesting.”  He took a deep draw from his tankard, looking forward to the Commander’s reaction.

“She has you spying on our Inquisitor?”  He advanced on Bull to lower his voice and block out any eavesdroppers. 

“Not really, just asked if I noticed anything to let her know.  It may also be of interest that she is some sort of noble as well.”  Bull drank in the surprise in Cullen’s eyes, it was fun playing with information when the other person was incapable of hiding their reactions.  He was also curious to note that with all the time the two of them spent together, that Cullen was still ignorant of her background.

“I’m guessing she has not mentioned it.”  Bull shrugged. 

“No.  What led you to this notion?”  Cullen had become less irritable and more pensive.

“Believe me, I had not intentionally meant to escalate the argument she and I had earlier.  I have deep respect for the Boss.  Although I was the one who instigated it.  I wasn’t controlling my anger and ended up calling her a dathrasi while I was trying to convince myself that she was the one to blame.  She knew what it meant instantly and took offense.”  He looked into his empty tankard, “Don’t blame her either, I deserved a worse beating than she gave.”

“Yes you did.”  Cullen retorted, “What does it mean?”

“Literally, it’s just a filthy animal, but when used to describe a person it means a lazy, non-contributing shit of a noble.”  He noticed that the insult barely registered with Cullen.  “You see, men like you who have nothing but yourself to attribute your life’s accomplishments, you don’t understand.  She has obviously had a privileged life that she has abandoned and as we have all seen, refuses to even acknowledge.  That barb at her honor made her crack.”

Bull watched the Commander process his words, reconciling them what he thought he knew of the Inquisitor.  Bull, as well as just about everyone in Skyhold, knew that the Commander had a low tolerance for the games that the nobility played, preferring forthright tactics and strategy of open combat. 

Cullen moved to take his leave, “Boss-man, when she finds you tonight, let her know that whatever I miss, whatever I regret…it means nothing.  This is where I want to be.  The Iron Bull is with you to the end.”

Cullen nodded vaguely at him, his thoughts clearly somewhere else, then walked out into the chilly darkness of the evening.  


	3. Dedicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Knight-Commander Barris has ever known is service to the Chantry. Outside the Chantry he witnesses the lives of others and what that means to his faith in the Maker.

He knew.  He wasn’t sure how many of the other Templars could see the signs for what they were, but he did.  He saw the moments when the Commander would dig his fingers into the horn of his saddle to hide the shaking of his hands.  When he blinked as though looking directly in the sun despite the fact they traveled in the shade.  He had seen ex-communicated Templars that suffered from the withdrawal.  They were a complete mess, writhing in agony after a few days, near madness, some suicidal after a few weeks.  They often resorted to desperate measures to secure any quantity of lyrium to be had through illegal means.  How many months had it been and the Commander continued to hold strong?  His focus while enduring a pain that crippled lesser men was nothing short of astounding and yet somehow he, Delrin Barris, had gained his trust enough to have been appointed Knight-Commander of the remaining Templars that were sworn to the Inquisition with the blessing of her Worship, the Inquisitor.  The Commander never admitted to his discontinuation, nor his discomfort,t therefore Delrin would do the honorable thing and never acknowledge it to anyone, not even the man himself. 

By the afternoon on the fourth day of the group’s march to the Western Approach, the Commander called them all to a halt in clearing near a stream.  The Commander pulled his mount near to Knight-Captain Rylen with the inquisitor close behind.  He motioned for Barris to join them. 

“Knight-Captain Rylen, you and your men continue west and lay claim to Griffin Wing keep.  You should make good time since the Inquisitor has already scouted the area for the best route and cleared out most of the bandits.  The rest of us will head north-west to meet up with a unit of rogue Templars that are considering joining the Inquisition.”  The Commander looked to Barris to confirm that his information was still valid, Barris nodded in the affirmative.

“Knight-Captain, as you make your way to the keep, be wary of the varghests.  The filthy beasts move faster than one would credit them considering their size.”  The Inquisitor sneered as the unpleasant memory had placed a foul taste in her mouth. 

“Once we have collected the Templars, we’ll head straight for the keep and assist with any further matters to secure the area.”  Knight-Captain Rylen saluted the Commander and guided his mount the bulk of the troops.  The Commander then turned to Ser Barris, “How are your men fairing?  Do we need to break for a meal or head on?”

Delrin looked to the Inquisitor for any hint as to her preference but she gave no indicator.  “They will be fine until dusk if need be Ser.”

“Then we press on.”

The Inquisitor broke into a chiding grin for the Commander, “Oh, Dorian is going to love you…”

The Commander returned her comment with a roguish smile, as if Master Pavus’ discomfort was his goal from the beginning.

The trio spurred their mounts to re-group with their now significantly reduced party.  The Inquisitor led her group at the front with the Tevinter mage Dorian, Varric Tethras, and Seeker Pentaghast.  Delrin and the Commander rode side-by-side trailing the Inquisitor’s inner party, with four of Delrin’s Templars bringing up the rear.  Delrin had traveled in small groups before, but not with half of them complete strangers and never with two of his direct superiors. 

Delrin carried on comfortable conversations with the Commander for the remainder of the day, sticking primarily to Inquisition or Templar matters.  Although none of their topics garnered the uproarious laughing and animated banter that was prolifically occurring from the group ahead of them, he felt more at ease with the professionalism and direct mannerism of the Commander.  He understood that Inquisitor’s inner party were integral to her operational and fighting tactics in the field, he had seen it first had when she had saved him and his fellow Templars from the demons at Therinfal Redoubt.  He still could not see how anyone could be so at ease and informal with the Herald of Andraste, leader of the Inquisition. 

***

At dusk the Inquisitor had found a decent camping spot near a pond with plenty of grass for their mounts.  Delrin took notice of where the Inquisitor was planning to set up her party and he directed his men to unload at a location that was at a respectful distance.  They had not made much progress when Varric made his way over to them. 

“I know the man is from Tevinter, but his arrogance doesn’t smell that bad!”  His jovial manner made the man welcome wherever he was known.  It was hard for anyone to not enjoy his company. 

“I apologize Master Tethras, but I do not know to what you are referring.” 

“C’mon, there’s only a handful of us now and there is no point in duplicating efforts.  Besides, tomorrow once you collect your people, you can go back to keeping to yourselves and singing the Chant of Light before bedtime, or whatever.  I promise the ‘Vint doesn’t bite.”  Barris could tell at once that the tales of Master Tethas sweet talking coin to walk out of a man’s pocket was not an exaggeration.  He found himself agreeing and redirecting his men before realizing that he had not consulted with the Commander first.  His men were well at ease with the Inquisitors chosen party immediately since it was clear they had become accustomed to traveling frequently and were quite independent in establishing a camp. 

Delrin was still uneasy as his men settled by the fire, warming the meager meal that had been packed.  He impatiently waited for the Commander and the Seeker to return from scouting the area.  He almost missed being addressed by the Inquisitor.

“Ser Barris.”

“Yes your Worship.” He pulled his eyes from the horizon to find that she had changed from her armor into a simple outfit similar to the one she often donned at Skyhold.

“Dinner is ready if you care to join us.  I have to admit, I feel tired watching you stand for so long.”

“I would prefer to wait for the Commander and Seeker’s return your Worship.”  His stomach protested, albeit silently, but strongly to his denial of her invitation. 

She shrugged her shoulders and did not press the matter, returning to her place near the fire. 

His vigil finally came to an end twenty minutes later when he saw the Seeker and Commander returning out of the thicker edges of the forest.  They reined their mounts just outside the camp when the Seeker noticed the consolidation of the camp and looked to Commander Cullen for his judgment of the development.  Barris’ mouth was suddenly dry and found it difficult to swallow, but he was prepared for any admonishment that he deserved for such an imposing assumption.  The Commander gave her no response, possibly not even noticing her glance.  He dismounted with ease, repositioning the reins to better guide his horse.

“Have they already eaten?”

“I believe so Commander.”  Barris kept his stiff stance, anticipating some type of reaction.

“Good, you should head over as well.”  He and the Seeker then led their horses to the stream and worked to loosen the heavy saddles. 

Delrin mentally admonished himself for being so concerned over such an insignificant matter, before he could reach the fire he was once again accosted by Varric.  

“I’m curious Knight-Commander, when you look over at the fire.  What do you see?” 

“I see four Templars, a Tevinter mage, and the Inquisitor.”  Barris answered matter-of-factly, curious as to Master Tethras’ motive. 

He chuckled at Delrin’s response, “Do you only look at things and only see a label?  I see four men and two women who have given their all to a noble cause and are finally allowing themselves to indulge in being normal.  Why don’t you give it a try?  You seem wound tighter than a grand-cleric in a bawdy house!” 

“I thank you for the advice Master Tethras, but I believe that would be considered inappropriate.”

“It isn’t a matter of lack of respect.  It’s a matter of connecting with the lives that we all once had and that we are fighting to preserve for others.”  He patted Barris warmly on the back, turned, and made for his vacant spot next to the Inquisitor. 

As the rest of the evening passed, Delrin found himself wrapped in a comforting calm that he did not know had been absent.  For the most part he stayed out of the conversations.  His fellow Templars recounted humorous tales from their days as recruits, Dorian added amusing quips about his travels with the Inquisitor and eventually Varric captured everyone’s attention as he related the love story of a certain Guard-Captain of Kirkwall.  His delivery was captivating and exaggerations just implausible enough that left one hoping that they were actually true.  

Delrin looked around the fire and noticed that not everyone was entranced by the story.  The Seeker had busied herself with caring for her armor, though she pointedly listened to certain parts of the tale.  The Commander and Inquisitor were seated next to each other pouring themselves over a stack of reports and occasionally marking a map spread at their feet.  Delrin noticed that the Commander no longer had shaking hands and that his eyes were clear of bloodied spikes.  At the same time, he saw that as the pair exchanged notes, their fingers would brush together or linger longer.  He then noted how close they sat, as though they sought warmth from each other.  Looking out to the group it seemed no one else acknowledged anything unusual about their superiors’ chaste flirtatious collaboration.  He even wondered if the two of them had noticed what came to them as second nature. 

Varric’s tale had come to an end.  He bowed and smiled in appreciation of the accolades from his tiny audience. 

“Excellent my dwarven friend, but I am willing to bet that our dear Inquisitor can best you.  My lady, do they have any fanciful love anecdotes in Bosquel?  Or are they dreadfully dull?  All work, no play and whatnot?”

With attention turning to the Inquisitor, Cullen moved to create more space between them, covering it up by reaching for some unfinished dinner.  “What need would you have for more tales?  I would have thought that in Tevinter you’d just place a curse on someone to have them bed you.”  She smirked as he shot her a nasty glare.

“You shouldn’t take stock in all the rumors you hear, I should know.  I’ve made up most of them.”  Dorian leaned his back to a tree and crossed his legs then folded his hands in his lap.  His posture implying he expected a tale. 

She looked to the Commander, he waved his hand to gesture her to begin.  She huffed in resignation.  “Fine.  The most common legend is the one of two spirits that once roamed the earth, never to be parted.  They completed one another and rejoiced in their interdependence.  The world was newly formed and the Maker called them to his side one day.  He told them that the time had come to populate the earth.  He wanted one spirit to govern the sun to call his people to work and the other spirit to call for the day’s end to relieve them from the burden of a day’s worth of dedication.  The two spirits gladly set aside their selfish love to answer the call to create night and day, bringing a constant pattern to the world and watching over that which the Maker had created.”  She paused with a satisfied grin, “This story is meant to serve as a reminder that sometimes we must do what is necessary, setting aside our personal aspirations to answer the call of responsibility.”

The Seeker was obviously not pleased with how the story ended as she let out a quick scoff.  Dorian turned to Varric and gave him a friendly punch to the shoulder.

“I do believe that’s ten sovereigns Varric.  A love torn apart by work of all things, I told you that the Osai have nothing on their minds other than duty—just as bad as the Chantry”

The Inquisitor shot to her feet, pointing with an accusatory finger. “You set me up!” 

“Pay up dwarf!”

 Varric was looking for a creative way to get out of paying out his debt.  “No, no, wait.  What about solar and lunar eclipses?  Surely they are part of the story?”

The Inquisitor visibly blushed with full force at the comment.  It seems that she had intended to leave out this part of the tale.  “The eclipses are the times when the spirits allow a brief indulgence in the midst of sworn duty.  That is why such days, at those moments, are considered especially blessed.  It is regarded as a time of reflection, to indulge in personal wants for a period so they don’t interfere with responsibilities, but rather add purpose to them.  Unions are typically done on such days if possible.  It implies that love is the foundation of duty to the family and will strengthen the couple’s dedication.  That is, of course, if it’s a love match.”

“Aha!  A ‘love match’, they do have such a thing!  A forbidden love is even better!  That means **I** win.  Don’t worry, I won’t collect now.  I look forward to few rounds at the tavern once we’re back.  I want to watch you as I enjoy spending your coin.”  Varric couldn’t be more pleased with himself, and with those parting words, headed for his tent.

Everyone else used his exit as a cue to similarly find rest in their bedrolls.  The Commander and the Inquisitor were among the last to last to leave as they still had the remnants of their work scattered about them.  They exchanged a few words, too low for Delrin to understand.  It didn’t matter, he could see it as clearly as daylight. 

He had seen how the Inquisitor’s proximity affected the Commander’s withdrawal symptoms, he now understood what Varric had meant earlier.  They were just people, men and women with needs, who answered the call of duty and bore the mantle of responsibility unquestioning.  Delrin knew that his strength from his dedication to the Maker and Holy Andraste, that the Inquisitor inspired him to be an example for all Templars.  His unwavering faith is where he found his sense of completion, but for her and the Commander, they were like the spirits from her tale--they found completion in each other, torn apart by the responsibilities laid upon them. 

***

It took most of the following day to reach the meeting point with the twelve Templars who had been in touch with Barris over the past few weeks.  The Inquisitor and Commander greeted them briefly but overall left most of the talking to Barris.  As the Knight-Commander, he was thankful that the pair showed their intrinsic trust in him by allowing him such autonomy.  He spent the better part of a few hours explaining how the Lord Seeker had been possessed by a demon, how the Inquisition was working with the Order to rebuild as an ally and answering all manner of questions to get them to trust in the Inquisition’s cause.  By the time all matters were settled and the group of Templars agreed to recognize Barris as Knight-Commander, night had begun to fall. 

“Inquisitor, should we continue to the Keep or set up camp for the night?”  The Commander looked to the sky, trying to gauge how much useful travel they might be able to get before it became too dark, but he knew she had been here before and deferred to her experience.

“The forest will thin out soon and with the open plains giving way to the desert, we should have plenty of light to get in a few more hours of easy travel.  The sooner we’re at the Keep, the better.” 

The Commander nodded to Barris and he understood that to mean he needed to get his newly acquired men ready for travel. 

The reminder of the trip was far quieter than it had been the previous day.  There was a silence that enveloped the group.  The new Templars were an unknown and it was easier to present the competency of the Inquisition by relying on professional confidence.  Once they were in the desert, the moonlight glowed off the sand creating enough light that their travel wasn’t impeded.  As they began to crest a large dune, he saw that the Inquisitor had come to a stop, waiting for the group to catch up.

Barris and the Commander came to her side and instantly saw what had inspired the halt.  There was a bright green glow not far off that could only be a rift.  Barris wasn’t sure about the new Templars, but he did know that the four he brought with him had never seen a rift, nor known what it was like to see demons pouring out of one. 

“There are no villages nearby but I can’t leave that open for demons to start wondering for who knows how far.  We’ll take care of it now.  Commander, you’ve seen us close them before and you understand the tactics of the Templars.  Position them on the crest there, and wait for your opportunity to strike.”  The Inquisitor was in her element and flourished in her role as leader. 

“To work.”  The Commander turned to Barris and the two men led the march of Templars to the far crest of the dune.  Once there the Commander explained that he would give the signal to charge, directing any specific attacks depending on what further abominations spewed from the rift. 

Barris had not been present when the Inquisitor had taken on the demons at Therinfal Redoubt, he and his fellow Templars had been too exhausted from the demonic assault that the final battle with the Envy demon fell solely to the Inquisitor and her people.  Now he had renewed awe at the Inquisitor’s battle finesse.  It was apparent that the party had extensive experience in fighting off the seemingly endless stream of creatures pouring from the rift.  There were only a few times that he saw some of his men twitch out of the corner of his eye.  The commander would bark, “Hold!”

What was he waiting for?  He silently prayed to Andraste that the Commander knew what he was doing, prayed for the Inquisitor’s safety…then he watched helpless as a Pride demon lashed out at the Inquisitor who didn’t have time to defend against his electric whip.  The severity of her injury rang out at the hissing and then electric pop sound that was produced when the whip snapped against her armor.  When she landed, there was no movement. 

The Commander held steadfast, “Hold!”

Barris heard a curse from one of the new Templars as he broke from formation and charged down the hillside. 

“Flaming idiot!  Knight-Commander, keep these men here until the rift is disrupted.  I will signal you from the field.  **Keep them here**!”  The Commander raced down the hill.  Surprisingly, he quickly closed the distance between him and the wayward Templar. 

Watching the entire battlefield, Delrin could see the error the knight’s insubordination was going to create.  The Inquisitor’s party had dealt with fallen members before and were already repositioning themselves to draw the creature away and revive the Inquisitor.  The young Templar was going to ruin it.  He charged and let out a holy smite just as the Commander was tackling him to the ground.  The smite had hardly no effect on the demon but it knocked Dorian down as he was erecting a barrier over the fallen Inquisitor.  The barrier was gone and the demon was laughing he continued his advance on the now vulnerable body. 

The Seeker rushed from her position as did Varric to protect the Inquisitor.  The Seeker held off the demon while Varric revived the Inquisitor just enough that he was able to pull her out of range of the demon’s whips with her aid.  In a split second, the Inquisitor’s team shifted from pressing hard on the offensive, to scrabbling to survive on the defensive. 

Eventually, the Inquisitor was in a decent position to attack the rift.  She held out her left hand to have the mark pull at the rift, tearing at it until it burst in a new wave of green.  The shockwave had temporarily dazed all the demons and Barris immediately ordered his men to charge, focusing on the massive demon that the Seeker was fending off singlehandedly.  He and the Commander rushed to Dorian who was being mercilessly attacked by the lesser demons in his crippled state. 

Once the Pride demon had been felled, the rest were quick to follow and tactics were less of a necessity.  With the field now cleared, the Inquisitor was able to fully draw on her concentration to seal the rift with a fluid hand gesture.  The tax it took on her body was evidenced by her vomiting instantly.  Even in the fuzziness of the moonlight, there was no mistake that it had been tinged with blood.  She then limped to Dorian’s side, her injured hand cradling her arm, evidence of the locations of her worst injuries. 

Delrin didn’t get to hear if Dorian had recovered at all since his  attention was drawn to an enraged Seeker berating the Templar who broke the lines.  He had never witnessed such furry unleashed in the whole of his life.  He and the Commander dashed to them, their path made all the easier by the Templars distancing themselves from her anger. 

The Seeker ripped the helm from the Templar, revealing him to be scarcely a man, no more than eighteen at most.  She took no pity on his age, her tongue lashed at him ruthlessly.  Only now without the helm, Barris could see the words physically striking the boy as he flinched and backed away.

“…not only did you completely incapacitate Dorian you then put the entire party at risk as we had to break formation to compensate for your idiocy!  You had no battlefield awareness and disobeyed a direct command from your Knight-Commander!  Have you no concept of duty?  Where is your honor?!  We would all be dead if the Commander hadn’t restrained you.  It was your pride that was feeding the demon!!  You negated most of the damage we had already inflicted!  Were you even aware of that?  You stupid little…”  It was at this point that the Commander moved in between the two, shielding the boy from the Seeker.

“I think he gets the point Seeker.  I’m sure that the Knight-Commander can handle his discipline from here.”  He had put his hands up on her shoulders and began to gently urge her away.  She sneered at the young Templar before turning on her heel to where Dorian still lay while being attended by Varric and the Inquisitor. 

“I’m sorry, Commander, I..” the boy began but was abruptly cut off by the Commander’s booming voice, that was intended to drown out his blubbering.

“Knight-Commander!  I believe that you have a situation that needs to be fixed.”  He pointedly glared down the offender who had now fallen to his knees, “Now”

***

Camp was made far enough from the battle site that the stench of burnt demons wasn’t constantly assaulting them.  The air was incredibly tense and no one took part of any conversation other than what was absolutely necessary. 

Delrin watched the errant Templar, Gawain, hurry about his additional duties in plain clothes.  He had been relieved of his sword and armor following the dress down of his impulsive actions.  Delrin looked out toward the night sky and wondered if he had been so unruly in his youth.  The Commander appeared beside him silently.

“How is Master Pavus, Ser?”  Delrin asked in genuine interest.

“Well enough, he’s almost back to his same annoying self again.  First thing he asked for was a mirror to correct his hair.”  He smirked a bit but quickly schooled his expression.  “How is our young friend?”

“Gawain is quite disturbed.  It was only after his actions were detailed out that he truly understood the serious impact his actions had.  He is young and impulsive and hasn’t seen true battle before.”  Barris shook his head in pity for the boy.

“I know what you mean.  Poor sod probably thought he was invincible.  I almost wanted to join the Seeker in her admonishment but he looked frightened to the point that I thought she may have turned into an archdemon by the way he paled.”  The Commander then placed a hand on Barris’ shoulder, “Should you need anything, let me know.  It’s been a tough night for all of us.”

“Good night Commander, thank you.”  Barris watched the Commander trod back to the Inquisitor’s camp, his feet giving way under the shifting sand.  Barris then turned back to the Templar camp.  He searched for a few moments before deciding that Gawain was missing.  He knew kindling had already been gathered and a seed of panic began to root in his stomach.  Expanding his search beyond the visible perimeter of the camp, he looked for any sign of Gawain.  Just beyond a dune he watched the smoke that still rose from where the rift had been.  It was as good a place as any to look. 

As he reached the crest he saw Gawain kneeling reverently in the middle of the scorched area.  He could hear the boy reciting the chant, heard his words catching on his sobs from time to time.  Gawain them lifted up a pilfered sword from the ground next to him, rose the tip to his chest and braced the pommel in the ground.

Barris was too panicked to make a sound and scrambled over the small hill to rush to Gawain’s aid.  Gawain was too deep in his trance, focusing all of his attention on the chant to register that Barris was coming to him.

“And as the black clouds came upon them,  
They looked on what pride had wrought,  
And despaired.” 

Delrin could see Gawain begin to brace himself for his last act in this world when a voice startled him.  

“And down they fled, into darkness.  Threnodies correct?”  The Inquisitor stood before the broken man, her hands folded delicately in front of her.  She spoke to him in a soft gentle voice as if the deadly weapon weren’t partly lodged in his ribs.

Gawain leaned back, allowing the sword to fall into the sand.  He tried to clear his face that was covered with slime from his running nose and eyes with his sleeve.  There was still no answer for her.  She then sat where she stood, but a few feet away from him.  “Do you need to talk?”

Gawain began to visibly shake, “I need to atone your Worship.  I have failed the Order, I have failed the Inquisition.  It is only through the Maker’s mercy that I did not cause your death today.  I am a stain to the Templar Order.”

She quirked her head to one side, “I’m confused, who told you that?”

“Look at me!”  He tugged at his sweat soaked outfit for emphasis.  “I have disgraced myself, the Order!  You saw what happened here!  There is nothing left for me.  It is not enough to pray for atonement.”  With a shaking hand he picked the sword back up again, staring at it intently as if waiting for it to speak to him.

“You already made one mistake today.  Do you really want to make it two?”  Her tone softened and she searched for direct eye contact. 

Barris was unsure how this would unfold but he continued to creep up to them as quietly as possible to be able to stop Gawain if he did indeed decide to go for that second mistake.  Delrin was unsure if the Inquisitor knew he was approaching form behind since she had locked her gaze on Gawain. 

“I have nothing to offer my lady, everything that I am is forfeit.  The Commander, the Seeker, Knight-Commander….basically everyone--you would not see them fail as I did.”  He twirled the sword slowly in his hands and he cast his eyes down on it, staring into the nothingness. 

“Of course not.”  She agreed.  This was not the response he expected as his head snapped up at her words.  “They have already spent years failing, making mistakes **and** learning from them to mold them into the great people they are now.  No one is perfect.”

Gawain then struck the sword into the sand and pled with her, “Herald, how you can understand what it is to be worthless?  To have to live with that eating at you every day?”

“Because I do live with it every day.”  She reached a hand out to Gawain, “Give me your hand, I want to show you something.”

He was untrusting of her intent but she patiently allowed him all the time he needed to finally make the decision to walk over and take her hand.  She placed it on the back of her head, near the base of her skull.  “Do you feel that?”

His fingers trailed over a deep indentation that was hidden by her thick hair.  There was no doubt that whatever had caused it was brutal in nature and extremely painful. 

“The ridge is very pronounced, why didn’t it heal properly?”  Gawain let his hand fall to his side, then knelt to listen intently as she spoke.

“I was once honor bound to uphold an agreement my family made with another household.  The arranged marriage did not bother me but in the months prior to the union, it became evident that I could not physically meet the demands of my fiancé.  He gave me this as a reminder of how I had insulted his family and shamed my own.  It didn’t heal properly because I told no one what had happened.  I saw myself as a failure and I couldn’t face telling anyone, for fear it would make things worse.  I allowed myself to fall into despair, I let it dictate my actions.”  She smiled at him as she took his hand in hers, he did not pull it back.  “I am still held in low esteem by my family but I know that I am made all the stronger by it as I look forward to what I can do to help others.  I have found purpose in the Inquisition, I have meaning here.  There is no atonement in death.  You need to draw on faith in yourself to press forward, to become the greater man for acknowledging your mistakes, for each person is important.”

He bent his head down to meet her hands, “I don’t know that I can.  I’m not strong enough.”

“How will you ever know if you don’t allow yourself the chance?  Today you saw how one man can have a negative impact.  Take this as your opportunity to see how that one man can grow from it and have a _positive_ impact.”  She raised his face to meet hers and gave him a motherly smile. 

It bolstered the man’s resolve and he squashed the sobs that had already begun to ebb.  He stood and collected the sword.  He reached his hand down to help the Inquisitor to her feet. 

“Why don’t you head back to camp, get some rest?  I’ll wait before following, just in case anyone is looking for you.  I’d hate for them to think I was giving you a hard time too.”

He nodded silently and began his trek back to camp.  As soon as he was out of sight the Inquisitor let out a heavy sigh.  She called into the darkness, “You still there?”

Barris showed himself from his hiding spot behind a large outcropping of rocks.  She walked over to him, “I hope you don’t mind my interference.  I had seen the way that Cassandra ripped into him earlier.  I don’t blame her, she was right about everything she said.”  She looked over her shoulder where Gawain had disappeared over the dune.  “He’s still a boy and hasn’t had a chance to learn how to absorb criticism.”

“Thank you Inquisitor.  I could have stopped him, but I am not confident I would have been able to turn his eyes back to the path of the Maker as you have.”  Her expression warmed at the compliment. 

She patted his arm, “We all have bad days.  Sometimes it takes a little more to get through them.  I am thankful to know you were watching him too.” 

With that they both made their way back to camp.  

***

In the morning Barris sought out Varric.  He found him on the outskirts of their encampment, shaking sand out of his boots.

“Master Tethras, do you have a moment?” 

“Of course, so long as it doesn’t involve any more sand.”  He grimaced as sand seemed to be flitting out endlessly from his upturned boot. 

“I wanted to thank you for your comments about seeing people for who they are and not just what they are.  I see now that Holy Andraste has spoken to me through your wisdom. 

Varric stopped his futile efforts.   “That’s me, the constant voice of reason.  Huh, and here I was only hoping to loosen you up enough to fleece you in a game of dice.”

He then gave Barris a broad grin as he pulled his boots on and took his leave.


	4. Unintentional Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the expanding role and responsibility of the Inquisition Cullen's lyrium withdrawals have become unbearable to a breaking point.

They had been back from the Western Approach for two weeks and Decima realized she had hardly seen the Commander.  She walked the training yard and was surprised to notice that Bull and Krem were leading the training.  She gave an appraising nod as Bull knocked a man down and flashed a self-satisfied smile at her.  She wondered if he ever tired of being a show off.  It’s no wonder he and Dorian got along so well, they both loved attention.  Typically it was the Commander who personally saw to the troops’ training, his schedule more predictable than the rising sun.  She continued forward in her search for Cassandra.  Once she saw that Cassandra was not punishing the new practice dummies that had just been built, she headed to the smithy, Cassandra’s second favorite haunt. 

As she approached the door, a heated argument was boiling over from within.  She silently edged the door open to let herself in.  Thankfully, Cassandra and the Commander were the only ones there. 

“You asked for my opinion and I have given it.  Why would you expect it to change?”

“I expect you to keep your word!”  Cullen spat back at her.  He paced in front of the forage, incapable of stilling his nerves.  “It’s relentless!” 

“You give yourself too little credit!”  Her stance was unwavering.  She seemed to have no consideration for his rage and returned his words with just as much bite. 

“If I am unable to fulfill what vows I’ve kept, then nothing good has come of this!” He growled out his argument, the tension thickened the air and Decima could tell that his self-control was faltering on the precipice, “Would you rather save face than admit…”

Decima had bumped into a chair, knocking it over and interrupting the pair.  Cullen’s expression changed the instant he recognized Decima, his embarrassment made his shoulders slump.  He brushed past her, barely able to utter his apology, “Forgive me.”

“And people say that I’m stubborn.  This is ridiculous.”  Her warrior’s stance eased slightly as Cullen left and slammed the door behind him.  “Cullen told you he is no longer taking lyrium?’

“Yes.  I can’t imagine the fortitude it costs him.”  Decima sighed, recalling long forgotten lessons from her upbringing that had gone into great detail the pains associated with the withdrawal.

“So, you are aware of the toll it takes?”  Cassandra was obviously surprised at this, but still kept her defensive stance.  She was curious to know how the Inquisitor would respond to Cullen’s current state. 

“Yes, somewhat.  Growing up I had learned of instances in Bosquel when it was used as a form of punishment due to the pain it could inflict.  The charges would have to be extreme, so I have never seen such a punishment in my life, nor had my parents.”  She wrapped her arms about herself to ward off an invisible chill.  Remembering her audience, she forced her arms to relax at her sides. 

Cassandra nodded in acknowledgement that Decima had some credence to the seriousness of the situation.  “Then you should know that he has asked that I recommend a replacement for him.” 

Decima was taken aback, _no._

“I refused, it’s not necessary.”  Cassandra’s demeanor finally softened, showing her concern for him.  “Besides, it would destroy him.  He’s come so far, to turn back now would be the end of him.”

Decima recalled the final line from her text on lyrium stripping; _the pain typically caused criminals to take their own life._   Although Cullen was not undergoing a stripping process, his sudden abstinence from it is the next closest thing. 

“What can we do?  There must be something that will help him through this.” 

“If anyone can convince him, it’s you.  Mages have made their suffering known but Templars never have.  They are bound to the Order mind and soul with someone always holding their lyrium leash.  This is his chance to break from that life, to prove to himself and others that it can be done.  He can do this.  I knew it when we met in Kirkwall.  Talk to him, decide if now is the time.”

Cassandra reached out with her right hand and grasped Decima’s shoulder, squeezing lightly showing encouragement and support.  Decima agreed with a silent nod and left for Cullen’s tower.  The short walk had her mind fumbling through possible arguments or comforting words, searching for something, anything that would help.  Her mind was still adrift when she opened the door and entered his office.  She was instantly blinded by blackness and speckled light.  After a brief moment the intense pain registered across the side of her head.  A hard object had smashed her in the head and sent her reeling in pain.  The object fared worse than she did as she heard it break into splintered pieces.  She pressed a hand to her head, doubling over and trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of her.  She saw the broken bits on the floor and it became clear that Cullen had tossed his lyrium kit at the wall in anger and she had gotten in the way.

“Maker’s breath!  I didn’t see you, I…Sweet Maker, I swear I didn’t mean to…”  Cullen was behind his desk and made an attempt to come around to her aid.  He stumbled in his tracks from his own pain and had to catch himself on his desk.  This pause gave Decima time to collect herself. 

She straightened her spine and removed her hand from her wound.  In a level voice she commanded him, “You will confine yourself to your quarters.”  Her stare burned into him as he reluctantly made his way to the ladder.  He began his assent when she called out, “Commander,” He flinched.  “Remove your armor once you are there, you won’t need it.”

“Yes, Inquisitor” He responded as though he were a man destined for the gallows, resigned to a grim fate.

Once he was out of sight, Decima quickly thought through what needed to be done.  Reassigning Cullen’s duties was the first priority.  Then the removal of the gash from her face would be necessary before she could even attempt to talk to him again.  She touched it and even without a mirror could tell it was awful, especially when she pulled her hand away and it was caked in blood.  If she was going to have any chance of talking to Cullen, she’d have to get rid of the evidence of his loss of control. Stepping outside, she saw an on duty guard patrolling the battlements.  She flagged him down and when he was closer she saw him cringe at the state of her face.  He was at least smart enough to not comment.

“I need you to go to the smithy and retrieve Seeker Pentaghast.”

“Your worship, I…I’m on duty and am not a messenger…perhaps…” his stutter betrayed his apprehension as to whether he should stick to the duties that the Commander assigned him or if he should do as the Inquisitor bid.

“Do you see an Archdeamon?!” Shouting, she impatiently gestured to the horizon, “If you don’t go now I promise that you will!”

If the soldier could have leapt from the battlements, he would have.  Decima waited in the doorway as he rushed off.  She listened to the muffled rustling above her.  A few times she could hear objects being thrown, fists landing on innocent objects before the Seeker made her way up.  Thankfully Cassandra was composed enough to not show the stress of the situation; her purposeful gait would not have alerted anyone to the chaos occurring above stairs. 

“Inquisitor, you called for me?”  She pointedly ignored the laceration on Decima’s face that still oozed steadily.

Decima smiled to mirror her calm, “Yes, thank you Seeker.”  She turned back to the guard turned messenger, “I need you to also fetch Master Dorian, he’ll be in the library, then you may return to your duties.”

“Yes your Worship, at once.” He was again sprinting at full speed while Decima ushered Cassandra into the office, closing the door behind her.

Cassandra quickly turned on the Inquisitor, her concern now showing while she lightly cupped Decima’s face to get a better look.  She gave her quick assessment, “It looks worse than it is.  Head wounds tend to bleed more profusely.  I take it that your conversation did not go well?”

She was answered by another round of vented anger from above, they both looked at the ceiling, of course seeing nothing, but hearing everything.

“It was an accident.  Can I ask that you take over for Cullen for a bit?  I don’t think there’s much left to do today, but I am a bit ignorant of all the details of his duties.”  Cassandra raised an eyebrow in apprehension.  Decima quickly reassured her, “Just for today.  Try to keep runners out of the tower if you can.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.”  Cassandra then moved to Cullen’s desk to begin her new task.

She heard Dorian enter through the door behind her, “Sweetheart you simply must tell me what you said to that poor man who came to fetch me.  The frightened blighter nearly wet his trousers…Fasta Vass!  What happened to your precious face!”

“It was an accident.  Can you fix it please?”  She saw that he wouldn’t be content with a short answer, “Please, Dorian I swear I’ll explain later but I’m in a bit of a rush right now.”

“Alright, then.”  He nodded in a rare show of seriousness.  She felt the cool of his magic slip between her muscles and skin, weaving the gash back together.  Then the heat as the scar was made to fade, smoothing out her skin.  Although she was visibly repaired, Dorian’s eyes bore into her, begging to be of further help.

“Thank you.  Please keep this to yourself for the time being.”  She gave him a warm smile to hopefully ease his concerns.  “I’ll meet up with you later, dinner for two?  I’ll even buy your drinks.” 

“How could I possibly refuse, now that your beauty is a reflection my unequivocal talent?” He winked at her and with an overly flourished bow, he exited the tower.  Decima took a heavy breath before climbing the ladder that led to Cullen’s sleeping quarters above his office. 

She had never been up here before and took in the small space.  She noted that there weren’t many personal affects, no decorations, _and sweet Maker, was that a hole in the roof?_   Cullen sat on the edge his bed, the one object that was too large for him to toss in anger.  His armor was strewn throughout the room, another victim of his frustrations.  He was down to a light shirt and trousers.  Large swaths hugged his skin tightly where the sweat had soaked through.  His face was buried in his hands, the epitome of despair. 

“I heard that Cassandra has taken over my duties.  It is as it should be.”  He looked broken to the point that speaking these heavy words taxed the last reserves of his energy.  She could tell that he needed to speak so she listened, allowing him to lay down his burdens.

“I never told you what happened at Ferelden’s Circle.  Kinloch Hold was taken over by abominations.  The Templars – _my friends –_ were slaughtered.  I was tortured, they tried to break my mind and I…how can you be the same person after that?”  He looked up at her with pleading eyes that did not expect a response.  “Still, I wanted to serve.  They sent me to Kirkwall,” He nearly spit out the name with his disdain.  He rose suddenly and began to pace the room. 

“I trusted my Knight-Commander and for what?  Hmm?  Her fear of mages ended in madness.  Kirkwall’s circle fell, innocent lives, people dying in the streets.  Can’t you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”  His heavy sigh weighed him down to the point he stopped pacing.  “I thought this would be better, that I could regain some control in my life.  I…I support your decision to remove me from my post, the Inquisition must come first.  I swore myself to this cause! I can’t give the Inquisition any less than I did the Chantry!”

Decima swiftly closed the distance between them and seized his hands, “I have not relieved you.  Cassandra is just providing you a moment to take a break.”

He immediately protested, “No!  How many lives depend upon our success?  Adraste preserve me, I attacked you!  Without the lyrium these old memories haunt me still, these thoughts won’t leave me!  I should be taking it!”  He slammed a fist into to a small bookshelf, knocking a few from their resting place.  He whispered his torment, “I should be taking it.”

Cullen dropped to his knees and refused to look at her.  Her cut was healed but he knew what he had done.  There was still a faint yellow and green bruising left behind.  “I can’t even trust myself around you, I’m too much a danger.”

At this Decima finally snapped, “You don’t get to decide that!  Whether you like it or not, you carry a piece of my heart with you!”  She dropped to her knees before him and pressed her forehead to his.  Cullen was too drained to oppose her, too ashamed to look at her, “I will always be drawn to you.  I will always share your burdens.  You have become a constant need in my life and nothing that you have done or said has changed that.  You are my center, my champion when I become lost in the murk of politics and demons.  I know your strength because it guilds me.  I know your devotion because it inspires me.  Please, _please_ see that worthiness in yourself.”  She pulled back enough to look him in the eyes.  They were heavy from lack of sleep, blood shot from pounding in his skull and bruised red around the edges from trying to hold back painful tears.  Never had she seen so much anguish in another person’s face.  She lightly kissed his forehead and wrapped her arms gracefully around his neck.  Her words became soft as she held him so close that he felt the flutter of each word graze against his skin.

“Maker, my enemies are abundant.  
Many are those who rise up against me.  
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,  
Should they set themselves against me.”

She placed kiss on his left cheek, continuing,

“Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.”

She placed another kiss on his right cheek,

“Though all before me is shadow,  
Yet shall the Maker be my guide.  
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond.  
For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light  
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”

Cullen closed his eyes and in a shaky voice, caked in fatigue, finished the canticle,

“Draw your last breath, my friends,  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand…”

Decima kissed his mouth to stop him in mid verse.  As she spoke, her lips brushed against his, “And be Forgiven.”

Cullen embraced her, pulling her body tight against his and burying his face in her shoulder.  She held on just as tight. 

“I need you to rest my heart, you don’t have to sleep, but you do need some peace.  We can endure this, together.  Please, allow me to care for you, allow yourself time to recover.”  As he continued to hold her, she felt his head nod in agreement against her.  He drew a deep breath and pulled away to stand.  She helped him to his feet and then to settle into bed.  Much to her surprise he almost instantly began to drift to sleep.  Fighting the pain must have completely exhausted him.  She started to leave but thought better of it.  Instead she went about his small room righting his furniture and reassembling his armor on its stand.  She looked about the room, it wasn’t as perfect as Cullen would have done it, but it was a great deal better. 

She let herself down the ladder and was pleased that the office was quiet for a change.  Cassandra seemed to read her mind.  “I have guards posted at the doors to intercept runners and have cancelled some of the events of the evening to ensure some quiet.”

“Blessed Andraste, thank you Cassandra.”  Decima didn’t realize how tense she had been until she heard the relief in her own response.  Cassandra seemed to be waiting for something, Decima took as guess at the unasked question.

“He will not be taking the lyrium, as you said, he’s come too far.  He’s resting right now, thankfully.  I’m hopeful it will do him a great deal of good.  Still…” She paused, almost reconsidering the idea, but then decided to commit. “Would it bother you too much if I remained here for a while longer, just in case?”

“Certainly, as it so happens Josephine has sent some missives for you to go through.”  She held the stack in her hand reaching over the desk.  Decima walked up to retrieve them.  As she turned to sit in the corner of the room in the only other chair available Cassandra spoke in a soft tone, “Did you truly mean what you said to him?”

Decima answered with a tilt of her head slightly confused at the Seeker’s comment.  A lot was said.

“You told him that he carried your heart…I’m sorry for eavesdropping but, I…I did not know that you had grown to care for him so much.”

Decima smiled knowing that Cassandra had an appreciation for romantic sentiment and of course she would have picked up on that one bit.   “Neither did I, not until I saw it about to slip away.  All of my life I had grown up knowing that duty came before everything, placed it before all else.  I am dedicated to the Inquisition, have no doubt, but this---him, it’s the one thing that I want.  If nothing else, this is all I ask of the Maker for myself.”


	5. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last. My love has come along. My lonely days are over. –Etta James

Cullen awoke in a thick haze.  His head was numb but thankfully not pounding and splitting as it had been yesterday.  He looked about his quarters, things were straightened and his armor haphazardly placed on its stand.  He tried to recall why he had been so careless last night.  Yesterday, Cassandra, the case—oh Maker, Decima!  He rushed to get dressed with newfound purpose.  He made his way down to his office and was thankful he woke before the day’s events had begun.  His heart dropped when he saw Cassandra sitting at his desk, organizing his growing stack of paperwork. 

“Commander.  Good you are awake and can release me of this nightmare.”  Cassandra stood and looked at the desk with a face of disgust.  “I trust you are feeling better?”

He was still slowly recalling the conversation from yesterday after his ‘episode’.  He rubbed at his neck, “Yes, thank you.  I’m honestly surprised that the she hasn’t called for my head by now.” 

Cassandra moved to the front of the desk, wanting to put as much distance between it and herself as possible.  She scoffed with her arms folded across her chest and rolled her eyes.  “I believe we are talking about Decima and not myself.  You do recall that she has not removed you from your post?”

“Yes—I can’t believe that she…she would try so hard to make me feel better.”  He was still trying to reconcile what Decima had said and what she had actually meant.  Surely she was just saying what she thought he needed to hear in order to get him back to work.

Cassandra seemed to be reading his mind.  He had to conclude it was part of some hidden Seeker talent that she wielded often.  “I hope you are not too thick to realize that she was not offering you platitudes.  She truly meant every word she said.”  Cullen could hear Cassandra let out an admiring sigh as she spoke.  “She did not want to leave here last night until she knew you would be alright.  I have only just relieved her a few hours ago.” 

Cullen shook his head, hardly believing.  He walked past her and braced his hands on the desk, looking downward.  “This can’t be happening.”

“It shouldn’t be happening, I agree.  You both have duties that conflict with allowing such intimacy.”  Cassandra pointed out matter-of-factly. 

Cullen dropped his head lower.  She was right.  He couldn’t let his infatuation interfere with his responsibilities to the Inquisition.  He then felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Despite all this, I do see that you need each other.”  He turned to look at her and saw the sincerity in her face.  “I saw during our trip to the Western Approach how you are able to keep a level head in battle while watching her fall injured in the field.” 

Cassandra finally smiled at him as his spirits began to lift, “Only you would be able to tie in a reference to the battle field in such matters.”

A messenger let himself into the office, marching up to Cullen and handed him a list with hurried purpose.  “Commander, reports from the requisitions office.”

Cassandra backed away and retrieved her sword from where it was leaning against the wall.  She used it to idly point to the messenger, “That is all yours Commander.”

***

The rest of the morning was filled with the same routine that he had grown accustomed to, but he found himself constantly distracted by the memories of the previous night. He could still feel her fingers brushing against his face, the words she spoke causing his stomach to rise, making his breath catch with anticipation.  _And be forgiven_.  How?  How could she possibly forgive such a violent outburst, but she had, hadn’t she?  Or did she just need her Commander back, just another competent body fulfilling a role the Inquisition needed?  Wait, Cassandra had said this morning…

“Ug!”  Cullen began to rub at his temples with frustration.  This level of overthinking was tearing his attention to shreds.  He looked at his desk and found the same stack of reports that had been there two hours ago.  Nothing was getting accomplished.  He sorely needed to clear his head. 

He opted for a walk along the battlements.  The crisp air did him a great deal of good.  The way the wind stung at his skin was a welcome sensation to ease his built up tension.  He hardly noticed the cold and would more accurately describe it as refreshing.  As he strolled along, he appreciated that he was feeling better, his symptoms had faded greatly from the other day.  They were subdued enough that they were easily ignored.  A task he had become proficient at.  As he was making his way back to his office, he saw Decima approaching him.

As soon as their eyes met, she smiled and quickened her step.  Her enthusiasm kept Cullen from reacting to his first instinct, which was to turn and try to avoid her.

“Inquisitor,” Cullen greeted as they met just shy of his office.  “I am glad you came by.  I wanted to thank you.  When you came by yesterday, I…I had pushed myself too far.”

She looked to him with genuine concern, “Is it always that bad?”

A gust of wind picked up again, Cullen turned to face it.  “The pain comes and goes.  Sometimes I feel as if I’m back there.  I never told anyone what truly happened at Ferelden’s Circle.  I was…not myself after that.  I was angry for years and that anger blinded me.  I’m not proud of the man that made me.  That’s why I left the order, quit lyrium.  I wanted to put some distance between myself and everything that happened.”

“For what it’s worth, I like who you are now.”  He turned just in time to see her blush at all that the statement implied. 

“Even after…?”

“Cullen I care for you.  You’ve done nothing to change that.”  She drew herself closer to him to add emphasis to the words.  Her closeness spoke volumes of her trust in him.

“I know you have faith in me as your Commander, but could you see me as something more?  I…uh, that sounded much better in my head.”  He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, looking out to the horizon. 

“I could, I mean I do!” He turned to her.  “I had thought that, it was just me - that the feeling wasn’t mutual.  Your strength and faithfulness to the Inquisition is intimidating and just, just so damned alluring!  I can’t keep you off my mind.”  She flipped her hands in the air in a mild gesture of frustration.

Cullen couldn’t help but grin at how they were both bumbling with this conversation and adored how she was stumbling over her words just as he had been.  He felt his courage rise as he stepped closer to her, trapping her between himself and the ramparts.  “I can’t say that I haven’t imagined what it would be like…”

“Then what are you waiting for?”  She smiled as she stroked his cheek.

“This is more than I could have hoped for.  It seems too much to ask, but I want to…”  He leaned in and he could tell that she was holding her breath.

“Commander!”  Cullen jerked his hands to his sides and clinched his fists so tight he was thankful for the barrier of the gloves.  He turned on his heel to the approaching offender. 

“You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.”  The errant messenger was riffling through a stack of papers to retrieve the one to which he was referring. 

“What?!”  Cullen was beside himself, trying with all his might to keep from decking the poor oblivious bastard.

Finding it, he held it out, “You said you wanted it delivered ‘without delay.’”

The messenger finally looked up and was met with an enraged Commander looming over him.  His eyes quickly darted to the side and absorbed the situation once he saw the flushed Inquisitor intentionally avoiding the confrontation. 

“Or…to your office?”  He began to back away and moved more quickly once he saw that Cullen wasn’t following.  “Right...”  He then fled with all speed, slamming the door behind him. 

Cullen could hear Decima begin to excuse herself, _no, not this time!_   He rushed to her and brazenly cupped her face to kiss her, _finally!_

His worries about his rash decision were instantly pushed aside as she stood on tiptoe to plunge into the kiss, clasping her fingers behind his neck, trying vainly to sate a hunger that had been building for months.  Her eyes were fluttering open when she finally broke the kiss by standing solidly on the flats of her feet, her hands slid down the front of his pauldron, weaving into the thick fur.  He slid his hands down the sides of her body, thankful for the form fitting outfit.

“Oh--Cullen.”  She felt completely drunk with quelled yearning.  She then whispered into the breeze above her, “Taarsidath-an-halsaam”

Cullen looked at her quizzically, “What was that?” 

Her eyes suddenly popped wide open, and she began stammering.  “Nothing!  It was, just nothing at all.  I think that, what I meant to say was, well…oh Maker.”

She pushed is hands down from her waist to make her escape, Cullen was too confused to fully resist, but still managed to grab ahold her hand to stall her retreat. “Wait.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

She stepped back towards him, placing a hand on his chest plate, “Forgive me.  I’m being foolish.  That was actually really nice.  You don’t regret it do you?”

“No!”  He gifted her with the perfect smile, pulling her closer.  “No.”  He wrapped his arms around her once again.  He intended to be gentle but her willingness to melt against him spurred him to deepen the kiss, nipping at her lower lip.  His desire raged but he knew he had to exercise control, they were in a fairly public area after all.  Then an idea sparked.  He decided to take a page from one of Varrick’s bawdy tales.  He stepped back to release her, he took a hand and affectionately placed a kiss on her knuckles while looking her in the eyes. 

“Until later my lady?”  Her breathlessness was all the assurance he needed to know that his romantic risk had the impact he desired.  With a smug grin, he walked back to his office, leaving her alone on the battlements in a state of renewed want.  Once the door behind him closed, he rushed to his desk to take up quill and ink.  _What was it she said?_

 

***

 

Later that night when most of his mounting duties had been dispensed with, Cullen made his way to the tavern.  He was fairly confident that what she had said was Qunlat.  He wasn’t too thrilled to speak with Bull about it, but he had to know why she was so spooked after she said the odd phrase.  Things were going too well for him to allow for this to become a problem. 

As Cullen entered the Tavern he easily found Bull in his usual chair, drinking with Krem.  Cullen thanked the Maker for small miracles that this was one the rare occasions that Bull hadn’t amassed a large drinking crowd. 

“Ah!  The man of the hour approaches!”  Bull raised a drink to Cullen, saluting his greeting.  Bull then turned to a passing barmaid, “A drink to celebrate!”

Cullen was beginning to regret his decision but felt committed at this point.  He pulled up a chair to sit opposite Bull and Krem and then stared at this hands on the table, uncertain where to begin. 

“I have to admit Cullen, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a man who bragged about his conquests.” 

“I most certainly did not come to…this is ridiculous.”  He reached for his drink and took a deep draw, hoping the liquid courage would be just what he needed.  Firmly placing the tankard on the table he produced the note that he had scribbled down.  He didn’t have a chance to begin with an explanation.

“You have notes!  For fuck’s sake, seriously?!?  Only the two of you would find some way to overthink a damn kiss!  It’s not complicated-it’s not some damned four pronged campaign advance!  Or was that topic your way of warming her up?”

Cullen began to fidget with the paper nervously, but before he could pocket it again, Bull snatched the note from him. 

“She said that to me after we kissed, I think it’s Qunlat.”  Cullen provided hoping it would be helpful.

Bull stared at the parchment, “This doesn’t make any sense.  This isn’t Qunlat.”

“It sounded like it when she spoke it.  You may have to play with the pronunciation a bit.  It’s not as though I asked her how to spell it.”  Cullen began to question if this was a good idea.  He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking of a graceful way to just leave.

“Say it out loud Chief.”  Krem tried to sound unenthusiastic, but Cullen could tell the man’s curiosity was peaked. 

 “Tar side hath an halls om.  Happy Krem?  I’m sure it’s not even the dredge you Vints call a language either.” 

Cullen was becoming slightly agitated, “It seems your Ben-hassrath training doesn’t cover making deductions with fragmented information.  It’s Qunlat, it has to be.”

“I think he might be right Chief, read it again.  I think I can hear it.  Say it a little faster.”  Krem then made a concentrated effort to stare hard at the table, then closed his eyes in an attempt to heighten his hearing. 

“Tarside hath an hallsom.”  Bull then tossed the parchment back towards Cullen, abandoning it in favor of his half full tankard.

“I’ve got it!  Taarsidath-an-halsaam!”  Krem bust into a boasting grin, then punched the Commander cheerfully on the shoulder, “Way to go Commander!”

Meanwhile Bull was practically choking on his drink, trying vainly to keep from spewing it on everyone.  “She said that to you, just for a fucking kiss!?”

Cullen was nearly leaping out of his chair, “What does it mean?  She seemed worried that I had heard her.  Is something wrong?”

“Haha!  Far from it!”  Bull called out for another round at the table even though Cullen had barely touched his ale.  Bull finished his first drink and assumed an arrogant grin then began to translate almost poetically, “She said, ‘I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect.’”

Cullen flushed to the point he was almost certain his face was aflame, “And that’s good, right?”

“Of course!”  Bull began to wave his hand as if painting a picture for them to see.  “Think about it, she’s already retired to her quarters and at this very moment she could be undressing and thinking about this afternoon while she’s reaching….”

Cullen practically flung his tankard down on the table, indifferent to its contents spilling all over the table and splattering those sitting at it.  “No!  No!  Stop!  Just stop talking!”  He had gotten up and was heading for the door, then looked back at the two scornfully.  “What is the matter with you!”

“I’m not the one with the dirty mouth!”  Bull called out to Cullen as he stalked out the door.  Cullen wished he hadn’t heard.  Now he had _two_ indecent images stuck in his head.  The asshole probably knew it too.

 

Once the Commander was gone, Bull claimed Cullen’s other untouched drink.  Krem was laughing to himself a bit, “What do you think Chief?  Is she that inexperienced or is he just that good?  Honestly hard to imagine the latter.”

Bull mulled it over, thinking back on all the conversations he’d had with Decima, mentally going through the trivial little notes he’d made.  “Hmm, I’m confident that the Boss isn’t unfamiliar with men.  My bet is that it’s because he’s him.  He treats her in a way that she’s unfamiliar with.”

“Oh-ho, do I hear a hint of jealously?”  Krem teased over the top of his tankard.

“And for that, you get the rest of the rounds for the night!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'At last' just seemed to be the perfect song to go with the adorable awkwardness.


	6. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen attracts the wrong kind of attention at the ball creating a scandal that the Inquisition cannot allow to spread.

Empress Celene’s ball was only a few days away.  The war council had gathered to finalize the preparations.  Vivienne, Cassandra and Bull were in attendance since they would also be accompanying the Inquisitor and her advisors.  They went over the plan twice, sketching out possibilities on the somewhat incomplete floor plans that Leliana had acquired.  Once everyone was satisfied with the exhausted topic of their plan of action, the conversation shifted to the Game and the personages who would be in attendance.  Bull and Cassandra quickly excused themselves proclaiming that there were plenty of other people to handle the sycophants they would encounter in Orlais. 

 

Half way through the list of possible attendees Vivienne paused and turned to Cullen.  “My dear Commander, we needn’t keep you from your duties.  I doubt very much that all of this intrigue even registers with your brute force tactics.  Are there not some whelps you need to beat in the training yards?” 

 

“On the contrary Lady Vivienne, I am not taxed in anyway and am perfectly capable of following the discussion.  The Inquisitor and I have been studying the notes which you were so generous in providing.”  _There, eat that compliment you damn hag._

 

“And here I thought all the two of you exchanged were pathetic puppy dog looks.  I have to admit that I have had to resist the urge to kick one or the both of you in disgust.  It seems that I have been mistaken-which is rather unpleasant.  Don’t let it happen again.”

 

Decima managed to stifle her laughter, “Madame de Fer, I do hope that you aren’t too put out.  If so, let me know and I will send for a fresh pillow that you may cry into this evening.”

 

“Careful darling, that almost had some bite to it.”  Vivienne gave the Inquisitor a cordial smile and then turned back to the task at hand. 

 

Cullen had been meeting with Decima more often to discuss work but what made it far more pleasant was that they were now courting and it provided a good excuse to be together.  They sat closer to each other and exchanged mild touches when they met in the great hall or the gardens.  He had begun to crave her presence and actually enjoyed her enthusiasm as she simplified the Game by assigning different nobles military ranks that indicated their level of influence and Sera-esque vulgar adjectives that served to point out possible vulnerabilities.  It seems that the Game came naturally to her.  He looked across the table at Decima and she returned his gaze with a smug grin and they both quietly celebrated their shared, albeit small, victory over the Iron Lady. 

 

***

Traveling to Halamshiral was painfully slow since they had to follow protocol at Josephine’s insistence that _this_ many servants were brought and _that_ many gifts and outfits.   The only bearable aspect was that they had to resort to carriages for the main attendees and with the Iron Bull taking up a whole bench, Cullen’s enclosed carriage only held himself, Bull and Decima. 

Decima made little effort at propriety as she sat as close as was comfortable next to him.  It made sense considering that she spent so much time with Bull on missions and Cullen had even begun to consider him a good friend, why would Bull mind if Cullen showed some affection?  After a few miles of antagonizing and analyzing whether or not he should attempt…void take it—Cullen draped his right arm around Decima and pulled her in to his shoulder.  He saw that Bull grinned in approval but made no comment.  He continued his conversation with Decima that Cullen hadn’t even noticed was in progress.

“I’m just glad to be out from under the glare of that witch, too much like a Tamassran.  Worst part is, she **knows** it.” 

“I know what you mean.  She reminds me of the last tutor I had to endure.  He was the worst, but he knew he would be my last, so he knew I would bear his conceitedness just to be finished with it all.  Ugh, even fifteen years later I still have nightmares that I would show to a lesson and not be prepared.”  Decima then chuckled to herself about the odd tricks the mind played.   Cullen then registered the comment.

“Wait, fifteen years?  How young were you when you ceased your formal lessons?” 

Cullen looked over at Bull and it seemed he was just as interested in the answer.  Surely she couldn’t be much more than twenty-five, at the most, but her education certainly gave the impression that she had spent most of her youth under some form of tutelage. 

“Nineteen, why?  Isn’t that a normal?”  She was genuinely perplexed. 

Bull let out a hearty laugh while slapping his thigh.  “Ha-ha!  I can’t believe it!  You’re thirty-four?!  You’re older than the Boss-man?  Ha-ha!  This is rich!  Who would have marked you as a cradle robber?”

“Oh, you ass!  I can’t believe you…it’s not that much older.  Fuck you!”  She then kicked Bull full force knowing that it would be registered as playful by the hulking man. 

Cullen held her tighter and placed a kiss in her hair, “Ignore him.  He’s jealous that he won’t age as gracefully.”

She turned sharply, sitting upright to stare him down.  “Are you calling me old!?”

Bull was instantly silent and Cullen was absolutely lost for words.  “No!  It’s just you look so young...”

“For my age?  You mean I look young for my age?”  Her eyes were daggers and Cullen felt his blood draining from his face.  The silence was hauntingly thick.

Bull finally leaned back in his seat, folding his hands behind his head.  “C’mon Boss, you’ll give the poor man a heart attack.  Lay off.”

Her whole countenance broke instantly into warmth and a short giggle.  She leaned forward to place a kiss on his forehead then nestled back into her spot against his shoulder.  “I’m sorry if I worried you, but Bull said I had a terrible poker face the other night…”

“Because you do.”

“Well, it seems the only person I wouldn’t lose coin to doesn’t even like to play Wicked Grace.” 

“I’ll play any card game you’d like if you promise to never look at me like that again.  Maker’s breath, that was chilling.”

Bull shrugged, “It was better, still needs work.  And speaking of prying, don’t you think it’s about time you told us what the ten stands for?”

She flashed him a coy smile, “I surely don’t know to what you are referring.” 

Bull groaned heavily.  “You don’t want to make things easy do you?  Many forget that I have spent years speaking other languages and there are certain base elements you find in all linguistics, Decima—tenth.”

“I’m certain you’ve already guessed that it symbolizes my place amongst my siblings.  Now I’m curious why you would ask such an obvious question?”

“Symbolizes.  Ha.  Knew it, it’s just a nickname.  You gonna tell us your real name?”  He looked smugly satisfied. 

Cullen couldn’t wait for an answer to throw out his comment.  “Tenth?  I thought my family was large with three siblings.  I never would have guessed.”

“Of course.  What else did you think it was short for?”  She twisted her head up and back to look at him as best she could from her comfortable nest. 

“Would you laugh at me if I told you I thought it was short for ‘decimation’?”  He caressed her face adoring the way her eyes lit up at his confession. 

“Haha!  Yes!  That is much better!  Hmmf!  I look forward to going into battle with a force of ‘decimation’ at my side.”  Bull’s jovial mood faltered momentarily into melancholy as he crossed his arms against his chest.  “This damn ball had better end quickly.  Now I’ve got my blood going and I’m ready to kill some shit.”

Decima laughed then curled her legs up on the bench, practically pushing Cullen completely into the corner as she settled against his chest.  “Does this bother you?”

“No, no.  You’re uh, fine…I mean, it’s fine.”  Cullen glanced quickly at Bull who was now making a point of feigning sleep.  “It’s perfect.”

He shifted his weight and adjusted his posture to accommodate her now dozing figure.  His fingers twitched, wanting to caress her curves but maintained control.  He let his head fall back against the carriage wall.  _How could something be so wonderful and agonizing at the same time?_   He placed a hand on her shoulder and could feel the steady rhythm of sleep.  He squeezed softly in reassurance that she would never acknowledge.  _How can you have such a large family and claim there was no one to go home to?_   He feared the answer to a question he knew that he wouldn’t ever be able to ask. 

***

Cullen stared out at the swirling mass of fabric and masks.  For the first time he saw the crowd of nobles in a new light.  The nomenclature that he and Decima had devised allowed him to see them all as pieces on a chess board.  He recognized the small battles between pawn and bishop, captain and recruit, as people maneuvered and carefully chose their company and conversations.  It would have almost been tolerable if he hadn’t drawn a crowd himself.  He looked across the colossal ballroom and glared at Josephine who made no effort to hide her amusement at his predicament. 

“You’ve attracted a following.  Who are all these people?”  As much as Cullen was thankful to hear her voice, he was still irritated enough at his present company to the point that even Decima couldn’t improve his agitated mood.

“I don’t know.  They won’t leave me alone.”  He watched as she flashed him a wicked smile.

“Not enjoying the attention then?”

Cullen scoffed at her delight.  “Hardly.”  He then lowered his voice, “Anyway, yours – yours is the only attention worth having.”

He saw her begin to reach for him, but her movement was stilted as she looked around and registered the very public setting.  She gracefully parted with a bow, demonstrating appreciation at the compliment. 

 

The ball seemed to drag for an eternity.  He was constantly assaulted by the same circular conversations that centered on his eyes and even his bottom of all things.  He had noticed the Inquisitor making frequent visits with Leliana, no doubt updating her on suspicious goings on that would hopefully assist them in revealing who the assassin would be.  A decision would have to be made soon, whether the Inquisition would support Empress Celene or her cousin, the Grand Duke Gaspard.  He was jerked out of his musings when a lithe young noble woman tugged at his forearm. 

"Serrah!  The Inquisitor, she needs your help!  Quickly, come with me."

The masked lady was pulling desperately, leading him away.  'Help' and 'Inquisitor' were the only words that registered.  They didn't exit through the main hall as he had entered earlier but behind curtains to a hidden door.  The cramped dimly lit corridor had his mind giving way to visions of assassins and traitors.  _Maker let me get there in time_.

 

The hallway soon opened up to a large well lit room.  Once Cullen passed the threshold he was immediately assaulted.  He found himself on the ground before he could even register that he had been bludgeoned over the head.  He felt arms grabbing at him, pulling his uncoordinated form up off the floor.  As his swirling vision began to slow down, he focused on the Orlesian noble standing haughtily in front of him.  

 

"Well, that was easier than I thought.  It seems you are more dedicated to the Inquisitor than we anticipated."  He could see her smirking grin through the small gaps in her mask.  She then switched to an authoritative tone, giving directions to her guards who held him in a death grip.  "Hurry, get him disrobed."

 

One of the soldiers began pulling roughly at his trousers.  "What is this!  Get off of me!"  He squirmed with all of his might, but the blow to his head had caused piercing spears of pain that hindered the amount of force he could muster.  It wasn't enough, especially the way his arms were contorted behind him. 

 

“No!”  As he continued his struggles, he noticed that the mystery noble had begun tearing at her clothes and disheveling her hair.  She even tossed her mask off into a corner.  

 

"You needn't worry too much Commander, for I won't even need to touch you.  All I need is the accusation and my current 'delicate state' to implicate you."  She chuckled at his renewed struggles as he arched his back, trying any configuration to escape. "You should actually be thanking me.  Our forced marriage will take you far away from the tediousness of the Inquisition."

 

"Commander!"   _Andraste be praised!_   Ser Perrin attacked the guard who had his arms pinned.  While she wrestled him to the ground, Cullen took on the other guard, hammering swift blows to his neck which the armor had left exposed.  The noble began screaming in full force, huddling in the corner of the room.  Once the guards had been subdued in unconscious heaps on the floor Cullen stalked up to the reckless chit.  He grabbed her wrist and jerked her off the floor.  She wailed in pain but he paid it no mind as his fury was scorching in his veins.  Before he could even form a word, he was interrupted.

 

"Commander!  Release that poor girl immediately!"  He let go instinctively at the sound of her voice.  He could feel his world completely crashing down.   The Inquisitor and the Iron Bull stood in the doorway, both glaring down at him accusingly. 

 

"Inquisitor, save me!"  The girl rushed with pleading hands grasping at the hem of Decima's formal wear.  "He forced himself on me!  He and that woman attacked my men so he could have his way with me.  Please your Worship!"  Her sobs were thick and her makeup smudged under her tears.  As Cullen looked around the room and even took stock of his current state of dishabille, he probably would have believed the charade himself.  

 

Decima reached out and cradled the crying woman against her chest, her voice was pierced with pain.  "Cullen, what have you done?"

 

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing could have prepared him for her reproach.  Did she really believe these base actions of him?  "Inquisitor, you can't believe, that I..."

 

She raised a hand to silence him, shaking her head.  Decima gently stroked the girl's hair and coaxed her to bring her head up to look at her.  "Easy Milady.  I know this is tough for you but I need to know.  Could you be with child?"  

 

She nodded her head shakily as she held back tears.  Cullen was righting his trousers as best he could while battling the shaking of anger and betrayal in his hands.  He then turned to Ser Perrin whose shock mirrored his own.  At least he didn't need to encourage her to testify on his behalf.  "Your Worship, the Commander is not at fault, he was set upon by these men and..."

 

"Silence!  How could this happen?  Had I known you had such, such urges!  I would have found some other outlet for you.  But this?!  This is disgusting!"  The Inquisitor spat at the two of them.  She sighed heavily,  "Bull, what are our options?"

 

Bull shook his head, staring at the ground.  "It doesn't look good boss.  We need to make this go away, for the good of the Inquisition."

 

"Then it's agreed."  Decima produced a dagger that had been well hidden in her formal wear.  "We need to get rid of all the evidence."  She then pushed the confused noble into Bull who held her arms tight behind her.  

 

Realization began to creep onto the woman's features.  Fear washed over her features, melting the helpless damsel in distress and revealing a woman bent on survival.  Decima spoke to her evenly, "I'm sorry this happened, but I promise I will make it quick."  She slowly advanced toward the noble whose tears had suddenly turned genuine.

 

"NO!"  Cullen echoed the woman's plea.  "You can't be serious!?  This is..."

 

The suddenness of Decima’s backhand on his face upset his balance.  It left a sharp sting that pulsed against his skull since she had been holding a dagger which didn't allow her hand any give when it made contact.  "You will do as you are told Knight-Commander!"

 

Cullen immediately swallowed his argument. Ser Perrin rushed to his side, drawing her sword.  “Commander, this isn’t right!  This is madness!  We can’t just let this happen!”

 

The Commander drew a deep breath and looked the frightened noble in the eyes.  His resolve settled over him, steeling his nerves and adding a new calm to his voice.  “The Inquisitor is right.  I cannot allow this to interfere with my duties.”  Ser Perrin made a move as though to try and stop the Inquisitor.  Cullen barred her with his arm and nodded to the Inquisitor in agreement for her to proceed.  “For the good of the Inquisition.”


	7. Here and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A timely rescue and a memorable dance.

Ser Perrin had seen the woman drag the Commander into the shadows.  She felt that something was not right.  If anything, considering their mission at the Palace, he shouldn't be alone.  She followed at a reasonable distance, more concerned with keeping her movements out of earshot than eavesdropping.  She restrained a gasp when she saw the Commander felled to the floor.  

 _Discipline_.  She pinched her eyes closed, focused her breathing.  _You have no idea how many there are or their intentions.  The blow wasn't lethal - wait, learn, act._   She crept slowly to the open doorway.  She could hear voices but maintained a steady advance even though she was desperate to hear all they said.  She found a good hiding spot behind a corner that allowed her to peer into the room.

Just two distracted guards and a woman.  Then she could hear the woman gloating over the Commander.  "...All I need is the accusation and my current 'delicate state' to implicate you."  She chuckled at his renewed struggles as he arched his back, trying any configuration to escape. "You should actually be thanking me.  Our forced marriage will take you far away from the tediousness of the Inquisition."

Perrin didn’t need to hear the Commander’s protest to know that time was of the essence.  There was no chance to run for help.  _Free the Commander, subdue the guards, punish the floozy._    Ser Perrin threw herself at the guard who had twisted and pinned the Commander's arms defenselessly behind his back.  He instantly let go and focused on Perrin.  She already had the upper hand with positioning and used it to her advantage to lay in a succession of crippling blows to each weak spot she found in his armor.   _Thank the maker for useless ceremonial garb._   The armor had little resistance when she did occasionally misjudge her strikes.  From her peripheral vision she could tell the Commander had quickly overpowered his opponent and was headed for the screeching harpy in the corner where she had retreated when the fighting broke out.  The guard turned to his employer when he saw the Commander advancing on her, _mistake_.  Ser Perrin popped his arm out of joint then wretched free the man's own helm to strike him in the back of the neck.  The rapid sequence of excruciating pain had caused him to fall like a rag doll to the floor.  

Perrin felt no sympathy for the wretch who found herself the focus of the Commander's ire.  She found that she had taken personal offense at this idiot for trying to tarnish her Commander’s honor.  She almost laughed to herself, knowing the terrible fate that was in store for the noble.  

"Commander!  Release that poor girl immediately!"  The Inquisitor's voice echoed in the small space.  She had arrived with the Iron Bull and stood in the dorrway.  Ser Perrin was in shock.  _No, she couldn't be siding with that worthless, scheming wretch_.  Perrin looked around the room.  Two armed men lay disfigured on the floor, a crying noble was disheveled, the Commander was by no means presentable due to his rough treatment from earlier.  Panic began to feel her lungs strain as if they were in a vice, Perrin rushed into the conversation.  "Your Worship, the Commander is not at fault, he was set upon by these men and..." 

"Silence!  How could this happen?  Had I known you had such, such urges!  I would have found some other outlet for you.  But this?!  This is disgusting!"  The Inquisitor spat at the two of them.  She sighed heavily, "Bull, what are our options?"

Bull shook his head, staring at the ground.  "It doesn't look good boss.  We need to make this go away, for the good of the Inquisition."

"Then it's agreed."  Decima produced a dagger that had been well hidden in her formal wear.  "We need to get rid of all the evidence."  She then pushed the confused noble into Bull who held her arms tight at her sides.  "I'm sorry this happened, but I promise I will make it quick."

This cannot be happening.  She knew that the Inquisitor made difficult decisions at times, but this time, there was no need.  There had to be other options.  Even though the actions of the self-absorbed woman caused the bile to rise in Perrin's throat, she didn't deserve to be slaughtered in cold blood.

"NO!  You can't be serious!?  This is..."  The Commander pled but was suddenly silenced as the Inquisitor swiftly pummeled him in the face with the butt of her dagger. "You will do as you are told Knight-Commander!"

 _She has completely lost her mind!_   Perrin felt guilt eat at her insides like acid, the fear and trepidation shaking her to the core as if she were the one stupid enough to strike the Commander.  She saw him immediately swallow his argument. Defensively, Ser Perrin rushed to his side, drawing her sword.  “Commander, this isn’t right!  This is madness!  We can’t just let this happen!”

The Commander drew a deep breath and looked the frightened noble in the eyes.  His resolve settled over him, steeling his nerves and adding a new calm to his voice.  “The Inquisitor is right.  I cannot allow this to interfere with my duties.  For the good of the Inquisition.”  His coldness sent a chill down Perrin's spine.  She lunged forward to stop something, anything from happening.  The Commander grabbed her arm and in the same even tone, scolded her.  "Lieutenant, stand down."

Knight-Commander, Lieutenant, both were completely wrong.  Understanding crashed on her like the angry sea on the Storm Coast.  She prayed to holy Andraste that she was right in her assumption.  Her tension eased underneath his grip and she turned her back to the scene in a gesture of retreat.

"I understand Commander.  Just don't ask me to watch."

At her final words the woman finally snapped.  "You blood thirsty lunatics!  This was not my doing!  This was not my idea!  Please let me go!"

Bull growled in the woman's ear, "Then whose idea was it?"

With the woman now compliant and resting on her knees before the Inquisitor, she laid out in great detail how the Duke Gaspard had wanted to remove the Commander form his position to better strengthen his alliance with the Inquisition.  He being a Chevalier and experienced on the battle field, he was hoping that it would tilt the Inquisition's hand to support him for the throne of Orlais to fill the Inquisition’s newly created void.  He had blackmailed the woman, Lady Noella, with her pregnancy by her father's stable hand to lure the Commander into a compromising situation.  

"Bull, take her to Sister Leliana so we can use her testimony against Gaspard.  Have some of her people sent down here to take care of this."  The Commander gestured at the bodies on the floor.  

Once the two had left, Ser Perrin let out a nervous breath she had not realized was trapped in her chest.  The rush caused her head to swim a bit.  The Inquisitor hastened to her, "Captain, are you alright?"

She quickly shook it off.  She was no green recruit.  "Fine your Worship.  I'm only ashamed that my faith in you wavered.  It will not happen again, this I swear."  She had gathered her composure and rendered a salute.

The Inquisitor briefly rested a hand on Perrin's shoulder.  "I'm just thankful that you caught on, this was certainly unexpected and could have gone much worse.  I am also proud to know that you have the integrity to stand by what is right and that the Inquisition has encouraged such integrity."

Ser Perrin was overwhelmed to receive such praise from the Herald of Andraste.  She turned to her Commander, his face relaxed as he nodded his agreement.  "Well done.  For now, we need you to head back to the ballroom to direct Sister Leliana's people to the hidden corridor."

"Ser" and she was out the door.  She didn't make it far before she realized in her haste she had managed to leave her sword behind.  She huffed out an agitated growl at herself and turned back to the room.   As she rounded the corner she froze at the scene before her.  The Inquisitor and the Commander were holding each other quite intimately as they spoke.  The Inquisitor’s hands were placed on his shoulders while his rested comfortably at her hips.  

"I should have recognized the trap, it should have been too obvious, but I couldn't risk that you were in danger."  The Commander used a tone of voice that Perrin had never heard.  It honeyed with tenderness that could have cradled an infant to sleep. 

The Inquisitor raised a hand to the bruised side of his face, frowning at what she had done.  She stroked affectionately as he leaned against it, "I would have done the same for you my beloved."  Her hand continued to the back of his neck where she clasped her fingers together to draw his forehead down to hers.  Once they touched, they both seemed to be soothed by the innocent contact.  She raked her fingers through his hair as he gripped her delicately splaying one hand in the small of her back and letting the other travel up her back to rest between her shoulder blades.  The moment was brief and as soon as they began to step apart, their postures stiffened and they were no longer lovers, but the dedicated leaders of the Inquisition once more.  The Commander broke the silence, his authority squelching the tender scene with finality.  "To work."

Even absent a kiss, it somehow seemed more intimate than if she had caught the two of them on each other like nugs in heat.  Perrin’s heart had caught in her throat.  The thought of intruding on something so precious and private had her fleeing back out of the corridor before she was caught by their departure.  She decided she would wait and follow Sister Nightingale's people to retrieve her sword.  

The rest of the evening she was only half engaged in her duties, still preoccupied with what she had seen between the two most powerful people in Thedas.  Scarcely and hour after the Lady Noella incident, Perrin found herself in the midst of chaos.  Disguised assassins were taking on the guards and had even discovered some of the Inquisition forces that had been carefully placed amongst the crowd.

“For Corypheus!  Kill them all!”  She glanced briefly to see the Duchess Florianne disappear over the balcony with the Inquisitor hard on her heels.  She did not even break her stride as she barked at the Commander, “Cullen!  Protect the people!” 

Ser Perrin swiftly dispatched the two thugs who were closest to her.  She glanced at the Commander and redirected her efforts following his hand gestures.  It was a flurry of knives, daggers and fists for the next half hour.  Many of the Inquisition forces had been injured but no civilians were harmed.  As the Commander directed the few mercenaries that were still alive to the custody of Sister Nightingale, Orlesian servants began to clean up the bodies and polish the floors.  Looking around Perrin realized that the ball was expected to continue now that the minor interruption had been settled.    She shook her head as she assisted a Lieutenant in hauling away a prisoner, _and they claim Ferledans are the barbarians._

 

 

***

 

“There you are.  Everyone is looking for you.”  Cullen had seen to it that order had been restored before looking for the Inquisitor.  He was somewhat surprised to find her alone on one of the balconies. 

“Hm, I thought they would have been too distracted by making snide comments on the ruined outfits of the traitors to pay me any mind.”  Her words were lighthearted but somehow weighed on her. 

She seemed to recognize it as well and quickly changed the subject.  She leaned back against the balustrade, propping her elbows on the ledge.  “Tonight was a bit more exciting than I had thought.  Watching you in action was so…thrilling.”  Cullen had long since closed the short distance between them and she began to play with his lapel between her fingers while looking up at him, beaming.  “You are certainly a daunting force to be reckoned with.”

He pulled her closer to feel her warmth against him.  Knowing that it had been caused by her exertions in the recent battle, it made him feel all the more self-assured and possessive when he imagined capturing that strength which emanated from her.  “And here I thought my good looks had snared your attentions.”

“Mostly it’s your smile.”  Unconsciously he broke into a half smile, only raising the scarred side of his mouth. “Yes, that one.  You could conquer nations with such charm.”

She leaned on him, finding her familiar place in his arms.  “I’m unaccustomed to a man of worth actually wanting to be with me.  It had always been about the game back home.  Never, [ _sigh_ ] never like this.”  She placed a hand on his chest and even though he was not wearing his armor, the thick layers of the formalwear still made her touch feel as though it were miles away. 

He knew that often times couples would shower one another in compliments, mostly from the idea that it was what was expected in a relationship.  Her choice of words and a pained sincerity behind them gave him concern.  “You know my past and yet you still attribute such an accolade to me?” 

“You are the Commander of one of the most formidable armies in all of Thedas, and yet you still allow yourself doubt?  It’s knowing your past as well as the strength and perseverance it has cost you to overcome and grow into the most magnificent man the world has known that has me lost in your shadow.  How could anyone proclaim to be deserving of you?”

Decima had frequently left him at a loss for words, or more so tumbling over them, but he was stricken by her confession.  It was too much to absorb at once, he stepped backward, not knowing the right way to react.  For a decade he had punished himself mentally for his failures, accepting the resurfacing nightmares as part of that condemnation.  For years he punished himself physically in the training yards to ensure he would never falter, his unswerving faith in the Maker holding his center, giving him purpose.  Now, it all seemed to splinter, disintegrating into nothingness.  He had before him the most revered personage, and deservedly so, tell him that he had no faults, only triumphs, and that _she_ was unworthy of him.

Decima turned and leaned the entirety of her weight against the rail of the balcony to look out to the distance.  “Every day I am reminded of how wonderful you are to me and yet, you know nothing of me.  I want to change that, I really do, because you deserve nothing less than complete honesty, but I can’t.”  She covered her face with her hands.  “I just can’t.”

He was at her side in an instant, pulling her hands away and he could see that the restraint in her words was crippling.  Cullen began to wonder if she had covered her face in an attempt to keep herself from pouring the entirety her history out before him. 

He tried to soothe her unease by thumbing her knuckles as he spoke.  “I am certain that I know what is best for me.”  He kissed the top of her fingers, then squeezed her hands for reassurance.  “Never doubt that I trust you and your decisions.  The way you care for your people, every action selflessly weighed to better the future of Thedas and your dedication to duty tell me all that I will ever need to know about you.” 

“And here I thought my good looks had snared your attentions.”  She wiped invisible tears from her eyes as she parroted his words form earlier.  The mood was instantly lightened and for the first time since they had begun their conversation, he noticed the music wafting out into the night. 

“I know this may seem foolish, but I may never have another chance like this, so I must ask.”  Cullen took two steps backward to fluidly execute an inviting bow.  “May I have this dance, my lady?”

The enthusiastic smile she gave as an answer had him thanking the Maker that he had at least learned one dance, even if it was a simple one.  As he worked through the motions he noticed that she was entirely dependent on his lead. After a few turns she had closed her eyes and fallen into the rhythm, placing more of her weight on him--depending on him.  He had never known such ecstasy existed beyond literature.  Cullen conceded that although he did not know who she used to be, it mattered little if it ever did to begin with.  Here with him she was his world whether _she_ would acknowledge that or not.  They were helplessly lost to each other.  


	8. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lucky date and hidden agendas.

The Commander was alone in the War Room and he used the time to neatly organize his notes and reports for the upcoming meeting.  When he found everything in order, he began to pace in front of the windows while turning a worn down coin in his hand.  The coin held more weight than anyone would have guessed.  _Is it silly?  A boyish gesture that she would find beneath her?  Would she think less of him for such a sentiment?_   He stopped to stare out a one of the panes, as if to find an answer off in the distance.  Before he could continue berating himself with his internal conversation, the Ambassador and Spymaster arrived.  Cullen pocketed the coin as he turned to greet them and assumed his usual haunt at the center of the table. 

“The Inquisitor will be back this afternoon from Crestwood.  The report they sent in advance indicates that they will have to leave again shortly with the Champion and the Warden for the Western Approach.”  Cullen handed over the detailed report to Leliana, who most likely had read it before sending it to him.  “Knight-Captain Rylen has a good job of keeping the area stabilized, so the journey should be a quick one since we do not anticipate any trouble.”

Leliana nodded and set the report down on her growing stack.  For the first time since he can remember, she seemed distracted.  He cocked his head to the side as he looked at her.  She instantly read the unasked question.

“Commander, I am going to ask you to do something and I want you to know that I don’t do so lightly.”  She turned a steeled gaze at him as she began to convey the seriousness of her request.  “I need for you to become more aggressive in finding out about Decima’s background - her family, station, anything that might prove to be a liability to the Inquisition.”

“Leliana, you can’t possibly be suggesting that…”

She swiftly cut him off and raised her voice.  “She has been lying to us.  This whole time, her omission is nothing but a lie under the mask of another name.”

“Commander,” Josephine stepped in with her soothing diplomatic tone before Leliana could become more heated.  “Since the Winter Ball, we have garnered more attention, more support from noble houses.  We are in the most stable position that we could ever imagine.  Should the Inquisitor somehow become compromised in a way that we lose support, we would be crippled.”

Cullen stayed silent with his own denial.  He began to fidget with one of the iron pieces on the map, the only outward indication he gave of his growing internal conflict.

“Cullen, I know you care for her, we all do.  All of this would be nothing without her but,”Leliana sighed a bit, then pressed on.  “I have been receiving reports that Orsai have been spotted in Neverra, Antiva and the northern parts of Orlais.  Someone from Bosquel is looking for her and sparing no expense to have hired so many agents.  There are already small rumors circulating, but we are able to keep them from any circles of influence for the time being.  Most of the attention is coming from the fact that there **actual** Orsai in Thedas.”

“I understand.”  He finally relinquished the iron marker.  “I just…she just doesn’t give me the impression that her ties back home are important.  She has admitted that there is no family there waiting for her.” 

“Bull has said as much but it is hard to believe that all of her family is gone considering she is one of ten siblings.  Besides, we have these reports which are genuine and the concern is growing.”

He closed his eyes and nodded in agreement.  He couldn’t trust himself to say anything.  His guilt was eating at him.  He had sworn himself to the Inquisition and this was necessary, his duty, but at the same time he felt as if he were walking in the footsteps of Maferath.  Unlike the traitor of legend, he was not acting out of jealousy of his love’s power and influence.  However, that knowledge did nothing to ebb the wash of betrayal that was sinking into his skin. 

“Talk to her Commander.  We need to know what we are up against.”

 

***

 

Cullen watched Decima idly walk the grounds around Skyhold.  After a while she looked up to the battlements and met his gaze.  She smiled fondly and picked up her pace as she ascended the stairway to his tower.  He returned to his office to wait for her inside.  He couldn’t believe he was going to go through with this, _was he?_   Standing with his arms folded, he silently prayed to Andraste for guidance.  He then stretched his back and found the familiar pinching of nerves along his spine letting him know that the withdrawal symptoms were going to act up again.  _Perfect._

“Ah, there you are.  We have some dealings in Ferelden I was hoping you might accompany me, when you have the time, of course.”  He couldn’t believe how difficult this was.  Why was it so hard to speak to someone that made him feel so loved?  _Perhaps because you have ulterior motive?_

 “Is something wrong?  Should I assemble a team?”  She instantly slipped into work mode, attentive and ready to tackle the problem at hand – how he admired her resolve. 

“What? No, I mean, I would rather explain there, if you wish to go.  It’s not too far, just a day’s ride.” 

She reached up to land a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I believe there’s time now, let’s go.”    


***

 

Cullen had brought them to the village of Honnleath.  They never made it to the center of town but rather, followed the outskirts to come upon a lake.  It wasn’t nearly as large as Lake Calenhad, but was sizable enough that there were a few boats out in the distance.  He guided her to a dock and the water lapping against the wooden structure was remarkably calming. 

“Where are we?”  She enjoyed the change of scenery and continued to take in their surroundings. 

“You walk into danger every day.  I wanted to take you away from all that.  If only for a moment.  I grew up not far from here.  This place was always quiet.  I loved my siblings but they were very loud.”  He chuckled at the fond memory.  “I would come here to clear my head.  Of course they always found me.” 

“You were happy here.”  Decima leaned against a dock post, enjoying the easy way that Cullen spoke of his family.  His voice during these moments outside of work was relaxing, especially in such a tranquil setting.  She enjoys the tingles at the thought of Cullen being careless and happy.  

“I was.  I still am.  The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training.  My brother gave me this.”  He pulled a coin from his pocket that was nearly smooth from being handled frequently.  The holy symbol of Andraste was barely recognizable.  “It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck.  Templars are not supposed to carry such things.  Our faith should see us through.  I should have died in the Blight, or Kirkwall or Haven, take your pick.  And yet I made it back here.” 

He turned from the coin and graced her with his gorgous up turned smile that she loved.  “Humor me.”  Cullen pressed it into her palm.  “You don’t know what you’ll face before the end.  This can’t hurt.”

 

“Are you sure I won’t be stealing your luck from you?  I don’t want it to run out.”  She cradled the coin, not wanting to relinquish it, but still giving him the chance to reconsider.

“I can’t imagine my luck getting any better than this.”  He clasped her waist and drew her in for a kiss.  A moment’s breath before they touched, they were startled by a crashing thunder.  As they looked to the sky, two flashes of lightening were followed by a torrential down pour.  Cullen continued looking upward, searching the thick clouds, “Honestly?!  I only gave it up a moment ago!”

Decima couldn’t help but laugh at his frustration, but they were both quickly becoming soaked through.  She tugged at his arm but released it to get back to their mounts as quickly as possible.  “You’re certainly not getting this back now!” 

She was already mounted by the time he had caught up with her.  She couldn't reel in her amused smile and actually basked in the fat plops of rain.  Cullen followed her at a quick gait back to the horses and deftly mounted his own even with the heavy armor that was burdened further down from the sudden wetness. 

"Follow me" Cullen bellowed the unnecessary command as the wind was picking up and the thunder howled at the trees.  He led them back into the village and took shelter in the stables behind the only inn to be found.  "It'll be impossible to get to Skyhold tonight, the risk of injury to the horses is too great in all this muck.  I'll see if they have any accommodations."

Decima assisted the stable boys with getting their horses settled and the saddles dried off as best they could.

Cullen returned a bit later than she would have anticipated, clearly agitated.  He rubbed at his neck while trying to stretch out the muscles by twisting his head.  "There was only one room available and even for that, I had to barter with its occupant to ensure private quarters." 

It wasn’t uncommon for inns to assign multiple travelers to a single room, she was certainly thankful that Cullen’s efforts were successful.  He roughly collected the bags she had set aside which had the few supplies that they had brought with them.

The inn's tavern was packed with travelers.  Cullen was of the single mind to reach the room quickly and rudely brushed through some conversations, oblivious to any remarks that were thrown at his back.  Once in the room, he tossed down the bags and let out a mumbled curse as he noticed the fire had not yet been lit.  Decima kept a fair distance, wondering at the source of his anxiety, surely he hadn’t been swindled out of _that_ much coin.  As he knelt with flint and steel in front of the fireplace, thunder and lightning cracked ominously outside, rattling the window pane.  His body reacted instantly to the sound, dropping his tools in the ash and lurching forward enough that he had to catch himself with both hands. 

Decima stilled her instinct to run to him, wanting to allow him some dignity and not have it seem as though she viewed him some damsel in distress.  “Cullen, do you need help?”

“The storm…” He whispered it to the floor as if he were answering someone other than herself.  He did not budge from his crouched position.

She went to the two windows and drew the curtains tight to block out the flashes of lightning. 

“Why don’t you take a seat on the bed, I can get the fire started.”

He ignored her suggestion and merely pushed himself back away from the hearth to allow her access.  He sat with his back against the nearby wall, rubbing at his temples and periodically rubbing at his eyes. 

“Does this always happen when it storms?”   She asked gingerly as she built up the embers to a reasonable fire. 

“No.  I’ve had a lot on my mind and the symptoms were already starting earlier today in the War Room.  The blighted innkeeper just pushed me over the edge.  I shouldn’t have…”  The thunder crashed again causing Cullen to flinch as pains from his withdrawal had heightened his senses.  He dropped his hands haphazardly on his legs. 

“I am remembering Kinloch Hold all over again.  They caged us like animals, looked for ways to break us.  The storm reminds me of the sounds that came out of the Harrowing chamber where the demons were torturing us, oh Maker…”

He once again clasped his hands to his face as if trying to push the memories back into a dark corner of his mind, to hide them from the world and himself.  She crawled over to sit at his side, but did not reach for him, letting him decide when he needed the contact. 

“I am here.”  She whispered as she set herself next to him, watching his features.  With his arms at his sides he leaned his head back against the wall, eyes held tightly shut.  She listened to him breathe deep as he focused his rhythm to still his nerves and stop the light tremor that was inflicting his hands.  He took her right hand and just held it, gently squeezing now and again.  The thunder rolled through again even louder than the last time, but Cullen remained passive.  Once he let out a sigh of relief, she ventured a kiss to his hand still locked with hers. 

“Does it still hurt?”

He nodded his response and swallowed thickly.  Decima began reaching for the leather straps of his breastplate.  It was after three loosened buckles that Cullen registered what she was doing and captured her hands in his. 

“No.  I need to head to the stables for the night.  This room is of course for you.”

She stared him down firmly, “If you walk out of this room I will follow you and you’ll have gone into poverty for nothing.  You need to get dry and take care of yourself, immediately.”

“I can’t…I mean, it’s inappropriate and…”  She maintained her steel gaze, hoping her resolve bored into him.  His resignation was confirmed by a coy smile.  “I’m not going to win this am I?”

She flicked loose another buckle.  “I’m glad you can see reason.”

“At least allow me the dignity of undressing myself.”  She rose quickly to her feet so that she would be able to offer Cullen a hand as he moved to stand.  She could see the change in posture caused him a small bout of dizziness. 

“I’ll slip behind the screen so you can change here.”  Decima decided the easiest way for the both of them to get out of their wet clothes was to change at the same time.  She was behind the tri-fold screen and undressing before he had a chance to answer.  In her haste she found herself naked and damp with nothing to change into.

“Cullen, can you grab me something to wear out of my bag?”  She heard some rustling that soon turned mildly violent, then a curse. 

“Void take it! Everything’s wet, completely soaked through.”  Biting back a laugh at his exasperation, she heard him dumping, then laying out the soaked garments in front of the fire as they sloshed against the wood floor.

“What about your bag?  Do you have anything to spare?”  It felt odd talking to the fabric of the screen, but without any clothing, she was helpless.  Her question was met with silence, some pacing and shuffling of items until finally a large linen undershirt was produced around the corner of the screen.  She chuckled to herself at his adherence and respect for propriety.  His thoughtfulness of her modesty was another reminder of why she adored him so thoroughly.  As she slipped it over her head she was suddenly overwhelmed with the scent of something she could only describe as pure man.  The fabric was soft from being worn often, there were even tinges of the smell of leather from the straps of his armor clinging to the fabric which was decidedly distinct from boots or saddles.  It even had a faint hint of the constant winter snow from Skyhold.

“Andraste’s grace, Cullen how do you have your clothes laundered?  This smells divine.”  She spoke the words as she rounded the corner of the screen with her hands clutching the fabric up to her nose for one more bombardment of her senses. 

Her actions were immediately halted as she found her Commander shirtless, wearing only thin breeches that were barely better than small clothes even though they reached his ankles.  She had always admired him for his character, his dedication and their mutual passion of tactics.  It wasn’t until now she was able to drink in how perfect his body was.  The fire light licked across his physique in a way she wished she could mimic with her tongue.  She could recount tales of people falling to the siren song of desire, forsaking all rational thought.   She now knew what that meant.  Had he asked, she would have done anything to satisfy the warm desire swirling within her. 

Cullen broke the silence, “I, uh.  It’s mine from today actually.”  He turned from her and rubbed at his neck.  He then rushed through his explanation.  “It was kept dry by the layers of armor and was the only thing I could offer.”  He continued to stare at a bare corner of the room, a flush creeping onto his cheeks.

Decima walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.  “I’m not sure how wise that was, beloved.  I may end up stealing your clothing in the middle of the night.”  When he looked down at her she felt she could swoon and find herself landing amongst the clouds.  Oh, how she loved his smile.  She began to steer him towards the bed, pushing against his hips with her hands.  “How about we take care of that headache of yours?”

Astonishment sprang onto his face, “This, that is to say…somewhat fast…I, uh.”  She laughed at his endearing unease.

“Do you trust me?”

He closed his eyes and she could see him working to shed the tension that held him stiffly in her hands.  After a brief moment he answered, “Yes, with all my heart.”

“Then lay on the bed, face down.”  As soon as he was situated she climbed onto the bed next to him, resting on her knees.  “Where does it hurt the most?”

He pointed to the base of his skull, the center of his shoulders and his temples.  “This will hurt a little in the beginning.  Let me know if it is too much.”

She started out lightly feeling for the edges of his muscles from his shoulders down to the small of his back.  Once she had mentally mapped out her plan of attack, she kneaded the heart of her palms into his shoulders.  She could feel him wincing under her as she would rise to add leverage to some of her movements, but he never told her to ease her efforts.  She felt as if she had spent hours hunting down all of the knots and cramped muscles in his body.  The whole time Cullen endured the discomfort, his blind trust in her encouraging her on. 

Soon she found the hard part over, “Now, it gets easier.”  She readjusted her position and began to gently smooth out the areas that she had vigorously loosened moments ago.  Now when she worked she could feel Cullen fading away beneath her. 

“Maker’s breath, where did you learn this?”  Cullen spoke dazedly as the pillow muffled some of his speech.  She could hear the appreciation laid thick behind his words.

“Would you believe that it’s taught as one aspect of the healing process?  Sore muscles can lead to worse injuries on the battlefield so this has been taught to many as a means of preventative care.” 

“I do believe that I may have a headache each day from this moment forward.”

She chided him with a _tsk,_ but never broke her cadence.  When she moved to work his arms, gently pressing into the bend of his elbow, the palms of his hands and the lengths of his fingers she could tell his breathing had calmed to a barely noticeable, steady rhythm.  Decima allowed him a few more minutes before testing his consciousness, “Cullen?”

She truly didn’t expect any answer but held her breath all the same. 

“Cullen?”

With no indication on his part, she began to look at him without the unease of him knowing or the scrutiny of his gaze.  She traced with a finger some of his more battered areas.  Her recent experience in the field allowed her to recognize most of them – electric burn to the hip, poisoned serrations on the shoulder, fire burn to the forearm, puckered slashes along the ribs where blades were miraculously stopped by bone.  There were some swaths where quick healing had been necessary and left the tell-tale sign of the unnatural stretching of his skin.

Decima whispered into the night, “Andraste, what more could you ask of such a faithful man to endure?”  She then felt compelled to offer the only condolence she could think of, she grazed a kiss on each infliction that he had sustained.  It tugged at her heart as she found herself almost completely covering his exposed upper body.  She placed one final one in the nape of his neck, hoping it would keep the pain at bay for the night.  Curling herself up with her back pressed to his side, she quickly drifted to sleep as well, burning this most wondrous date into her memory.

 

***

 

Cullen opened his eyes in a haze of confusion.  He felt no true panic since it wasn’t uncommon that he would wake up disoriented, but this time it was different.  He hadn’t been roused by a nightmare.  Thinking back, there were some vague snippets of one, but nothing pronounced or coherent to tear him from his sleep.  He started to turn on his side and then felt a warm weight slide against him. 

 _Decima_.  It all came flooding back now.  When she walked from behind the screen last night and stood in front of the fire, he thought he had been presented with the epitome of perfection.  She was wearing **his** clothes and enjoying **his** scent while the fire light passed through the thin fabric of his oversized shirt to outline her shoulders, waist, _oh, Maker those hips_.  He closed his eyes to conjure the scene again and again.  He never wanted that image to become another casualty of his lyrium withdrawal. 

Culllen turned onto his side to look on Decima as she peacefully slept.  He remembered how she had practically pulled him a part and then pressed him back together again with her skillful touch.   He hadn’t wanted to fall asleep like he had, but his body became lost in the new found relief she provided and he was unable to resist the weight of his eyes.  His last memory was of her voice quietly beseeching Andraste on his behalf and then the gentle kisses that guided him into oblivion.  He had been intimate with women before, it was even recommended for some of the Templars in Kirkwall to help with stress relief, but last night, _Ah –_ last night was the most sensual, intimate and erotic moment in his life.  She had come to him, cared for him even as he lay crippled on the floor.  _Maker, what have I done to deserve this?_  

His first thought was to caress her as she had him, but when he rubbed his fingers together he felt the roughness of his callouses.  Thinking better of it and not wanting to wake her, he settled for wrapping an arm about her waist and nuzzling his head against the nape of her neck.  He drifted in and out of sleep for the remainder of the morning, finally acknowledging thanks for the lucky rainstorm. 

Unbidden, his reverie was broken by words echoing in the back of his mind.

 

_“Talk to her Commander.  We need to know what we are up against.”_


	9. Troubling Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ride back from Honnleath was less than fun.

The day following their return from Honnleath saw the Inquisitor off to the Western Approach with her companions to meet up with Hawke and the Warden.  In predictable fashion, Leliana had called a meeting in the War Room.  Cullen arrived on time to find that Leliana and Josephine were waiting for him.  He knew they would only talk of one thing.  He wordlessly handed over the report that he had made at her instruction. 

Leliana took it and began to scan it.  Cullen took a step back and crossed his arms across his chest, waiting for her to finish.

“This tells me nothing.”  She looked up at him in confusion. 

“Of course it doesn’t.  Look at the last page.”  Leliana flipped through the small collection and found the one he mentioned.  “She knows about almost every person you’ve used to try and pry information out of her.    Healers, stable hands, merchants in Val Royeaux, the list goes on.”

Josephine raised an eyebrow at this news but kept any comments to herself.   Leliana shock her head.  “And I take it that she refused your questioning as well?”

“She recognized it immediately.  I then chose the tactic of being blunt and told her of our last War Room meeting and the concerns the both of you brought up.  She did acknowledge that your concerns were serious and valid.  However, she remains steadfast.”

Leliana threw the papers down in frustration.  “She understands but still refuses to help clear things up.  Has she no faith, no trust in us?”

“She swears that what she is doing is for the protection of the Inquisition’s interests and its people.  Her dedication to the increasing duties has not faltered and all of her actions support that.”  Cullen found himself taking a more aggressive tone than he intended, but did not regret it as Leliana refused to back down. 

“All actions save this one.”

“And it’s one that I’m willing to overlook.”  He snapped at her.

“But not I!  You overlook it because of your feelings for her.  It’s hardly a trustworthy assertion, Commander.”  She smirked while showing her irritation with harshly flung words. 

He then turned from her and rubbed at his neck, pacing the length of the massive table.  “I had thought of that.”  Sighing he faced the two women again.  “I asked her if anyone were sent to Bosquel to try and obtain information from the source, what would happen to them.  She said that they would be captured, probably killed.  I was already in so deep at this point that I pushed harder,” He then intentionally looked at Leliana.  “I knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with such an answer.  I asked what would happen if I were sent.”

Cullen paused, rubbing his forehead, then pinching at his eyes as he unintentionally conjured the haunting conversation. 

_I would not be able to save you.  You would have me say good bye to you for the last time because we both know that one person is not worth sacrificing all that we have done for the Inquisition.  Our work is not done and we can’t let personal feelings deviate us from that path.  It would destroy me, but I could not save you.  I’m sorry Cullen._

“She said that her response would remain steadfast, for the good of the Inquisition.”

Both Leliana and Josephine were silent for a few moments.  Josephine finally attempted to cut through the unease that was swallowing the room.  “Commander, I’m sure that was not an easy conversation to have…”

Cullen cut her off sharply.  “No it wasn’t.  She looked me in the eye and I knew,” he hammered a fist on the table.  “I knew, she was not bluffing.  It was more unnerving than if she had been holding an executioner’s ax to my neck!”  He turned on Leliana.  “She was clever enough to oust some of your best people.  I’m asking you to have faith that she is clever enough to know what she is doing.”  He then used both hands to push himself from the table with finality.  “I will no longer take part in any more fact finding concerning this matter.”

“I understand, but that does not mean that I will discontinue my efforts.”  She kept her proud stance, but Cullen could tell that she was dismayed to have lost the argument.

“Decima actually asked that you keep up your efforts, shy of sending people to Bosquel.”  Both the women perked up in surprise at this.  “She values your efforts and actually admitted that having agents in Thedas is troubling.”  He found himself grinning at them.  “Like I said, she understands your concerns and is doing what she feels is best, she’s not ignoring it.  She does not take any of this personally.” 

“I’m glad that we can at least agree on that.  It is good to know my work was not taken as a personal insult.”  Leliana’s tone was beginning to lighten. 

“She said she would have been disappointed if I you had not tried.”  Finally, Cullen had coaxed a smile out her. With the only business for the day concluded, she gave him a nod and dismissed herself.

Josephine lingered, “Commander, I hope that I am not too bold to ask, but did your conversation have any impact on your and Decima’s relationship?”

He could tell from her tone that she was genuinely concerned.  With a heavy sigh, he raked his hand through his hair.  “She said that it didn’t.  That I shouldn’t worry, but now, I don’t know.”

“You are worried that her feelings for you may have changed then?”  She stared at him harder, concern written on her face.  It was clear she didn’t want to see either of them hurt by the uncomfortable inquiry. 

“I used to be able to take comfort in our straight forward business conversations.  There were no games, no decisions based on sentimentality, just duty and what is best for the Inquisition.  But this one was…how can someone not take it as a personal affront?”

Josephine patted his arm, “Perhaps you should take your own advice and have faith in her.”

As much as he wished that were all it would take, he knew that nothing ever came easy for him.  _Maker, that I could so easily shed myself of this doubt.  I don’t want to…I can’t lose her._

 

***

 

After ten days they received word from the Inquisitor that things had gone from bad, to worse.  Corypheus was using the Wardens to create a demon army.  It seemed that the ancient magister knew no bounds when it came to corrupting the virtuous and twisting them against their purpose.  Cullen’s days were quickly filled with preparations for an assault on Adamant fortress, the home of the noble Warden order.  Although he was thankful that the fortress’s construction made it susceptible to modern siege equipment, he still felt somewhat dirty attacking the misguided faithful who understood service and sacrifice. 

In the afternoon he heard the horns sound, alerting the castle that the Inquisitor and her party had returned, but he had no time to spare for even a short greeting.  The demands on his time were beginning to overlap as he now found three different messengers in his office while he issued orders to one of his captains.

 

The day had droned on similar to that into the late hours of the night.  Well after dusk, Cullen found himself in his office, handling the details of mobilizing of the troops, the last meeting for the night. 

“We will begin our march by the week’s end, I have already given Knight-Commander Bariss his instructions for the Templars, seeing as demons will be an immediate threat.  We’ll begin drills in the morning to ensure all recruits are aquatinted with the proper techniques when facing abominations.  Rylan’s men will,” Cullen paused briefly as one of his soldiers shifted their weight to another foot, revealing the Inquisitor patiently waiting by the door at the back of the room.  She leaned her back against the wall, watching him excel within his element“…will meet up with our forces four miles south of Adamant.  Perrin, your unit will resupply his men, the quarter master already has most of the items packed and ready for transport.  That is all.” 

“Yes Ser!  We’ll finalize the preparations at once.”  Perrin saluted with a hand to her chest and ushered the Lieutenants out of the office.  Cullen followed them to the door and shut it behind them.  He leaned heavily against the door as though it would lift the weight of responsibility from his shoulders, even if for just a fleeting moment.

He sighed deeply.  “There’s always something more isn’t there?”

“Wishing we were away?”  The lightness of her voice allowed him to think they both shared in that fantasy. 

He chuckled at the thought of such a luxury, “I barely found time to get away before.  This war won't last forever.  When it started, I…I hadn't considered much beyond our survival.  But things are different now.”  He began to idly pace about the room, giving voice to the stray thoughts in his mind. 

“What do you mean?”

“I find myself wondering what would happen after...when this is over.  I won't want to move on, not from you.”  He cupped her face in his hand in a soft gesture of endearment.  “That is, I don't know what you, if you..."  His fumbling doubt and her silence was eating him alive.  He turned to face his desk, taking the coward’s way to avoid facing her response head on.  _Have I ruined things with such a romantic confession?  She said everything was fine, was it?  I should have fixed things first._

"This time away, has given me time to think.” 

 _No, no!  Nothing good can come after that.  Andraste preserve me, not like this, please.  Not like this._   His mind was screaming, desperately clawing on the inside for him to do something, say anything to change the inevitable. 

“Cullen, I...I can't keep going on like this."


	10. Never Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, so that's what the rating is for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for all the kudos and comments, they are great motivation and very much appreciated.

“Cullen, I...I can't keep going on like this."

The words slammed into his chest, stealing any breath he could have for a response.  How was he so keen on ruining everything good?  He couldn't have moved a muscle even if a high dragon were bearing down on them.  It took all of his strength to brace against the desk, griping the edges to keep from losing his balance.  She continued speaking at him.  All he desired was to force her out of the room.  The only thing stopping him was his fear that that he would lose all control and crumple before her – beg on bended knee to her to change her mind.   

"You know that I come from a culture that is far removed from Thedas, even Bull finds some of our ways odd."  The attempt at levity was wasted.  He remained still, passive. 

"Please listen, I need you to understand."  Her voice began to dip lower, just slightly above a whisper.  

Her plea wrenched at him, how could she possibly presume to feel hurt by the cruelty she was inflicting on him?  His biting anger had him stand up straight as he turned to face her, bracing his hands on the hilt of his sword.  Assuming a mask of indifference, he felt some sense of control of the situation as she took a step back from his imposing form.  Watching her dry wash her hands nervously gave him some comfort that it at least hadn’t been an easy decision for her. 

"I have been learning more about your culture and I can't go any further without you knowing some of my past.  I respect you too much.  It seems that for many in Thedas, previous relationships can be a concern."  She took a deep, shaky breath.  "I have to let you know.  I have to tell, to say…that I have been with...as in sex, I guess, with many men."  Her bumbling confession spilled from her in a manner that could barely be considered coherent as her words continued to trip over each other. 

She captured her head in her hands, shaking to and fro as if she could shake off a few partners from her past.  She looked up to him, her eyes teetering on the edge of a flood.  "Before all of this, things were different.  Back home it’s normal, but here…Maker, Cullen, you are everything to me.  I don't, I can't let there be anything that comes between us.  I know that I have already damaged…I’ve risked so much already by refusing Leliana’s demands.  I don’t want this be another wedge forces us a part.” 

She took a few steps to be closer to him, but still restrained herself from any physical contact.  “If, if this is intolerable, if my past sickens you, I understand…and I guess _[sigh]_ I guess it's good we know now...right?"  She looked up to him, her eyes pleading, begging for an answer that would put an end her self-inflicted torture. 

"Decima," The sudden turn of the conversation had Cullen scrambling to collect his thoughts while processing what she had said. She thought that her past was an issue?  The irony struck him hard in the chest.  He took her hands within his gently, as though cupping a pile of feathers.  "You know the demons that plague me, the path I once followed.  I cannot see how you would think that I would be so shallow as to let this change the way I feel for you."  

He brushed a kiss across the back of each hand, then looked her in the eyes, noticing the spark of hope that instantly changed the purpose behind her welling tears.  She squeezed his hands in return blinking away her moment of weakness.  

"Every day I burn for you.”  She removed her hands from his and used them to stroke his feathery pauldrons.  “By the Maker, Cullen I am so selfish.  I want that there will only ever be you.  I need you."

He was completely undone, positively broken.  Never could he have imagined that she could care for him in such a way.  That she could feel as deeply for him as he did her.  He swooped her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground, letting his hunger for the taste of her control their kiss.  She answered in kind, nipping and licking at his lips while she wrapped her legs around his waist.  He could feel how badly she wanted him.  Her need was evident in her fevered groping, trying to find any weakness in his armor that would enable her to caress his skin.  Cullen turned and carried her to his desk, propping her perfect ass on the slimmest edge while he swept the rest of the surface clear.  She wiggled further onto the now roomy desk, still kissing in the taste of his mouth, his ear, and even slipping down his neck.  He closed his eyes and let out a deep groan, pushing her further on the desk with his hips.  _Maker, this can't be real._

He pulled himself away to look at the woman perched on his desk.  Not just any woman, his love.  She was partly breathless, her lovely chest heaving in such an unintentionally enticing manner.  "Are you certain my past doesn't bother you?"

"Of course not, all that matters is now.  And right now, you are all mine."  His mischievous grin sent a thrill of excitement through her body, causing her to visibly shudder.  The grin soon turned predatory as she began to undo her top.  As form fitting as it was, it still did not do her curves justice.  His hungry eyes followed his fingers as they explored her flesh.  Her skin was a beautifully exotic bronze color.  Her breasts filled his hands perfectly.  Her fortitude on proud display as raised scars were more pronounced from healing to a lighter color.   Many were new, most were clearly older than her time in the Inquisition.  This reminder of her strength, her prowess stroked the burning heat within him.  He felt a thrill course through him that such raw power desired him. 

“Maker’s breath you are astounding.”  He made quick work of her boots and trousers, enjoying the giggle his rushed actions elicited from her. 

She was clearly indulging in the personal attention, enjoying the natural high.  She leaned backward on her hands as he began to kiss down her neck, her chest, the side of her ribs as he gently cradled her backward so she laid flat on the desk. 

“For someone who seems so impatient, you are still wearing an awful lot of clothing.”  He leered at her comment, _impatient was he?_

“Challenge accepted dear lady.” 

He removed his gloves and firmly gripped both of her thighs.  She quirked her head at him in confusion as  she propped herself up on her elbows.  “Cullen, what are you…” 

“Trust me.” He purred, pressing her back against the desk. 

He massaged her muscles for a moment before licking his thumb and pressing it against her clit, drawing small delicate circles with precise pressure.  Her reaction was instant as her body arched against the desk, bucking her hips up at his touch.  Her responsiveness encouraged him further as he knelt, then parted her wet lips and began to lap at her.  He began gently but became bolder, more confident when he saw her white knuckled grip on the desk’s edge by her knees. 

Her whimpers of pleasure inflamed his own desires.  He began to explore with two fingers, gliding in and out, feeling her tightness, knowing he was pushing her to the edge.  She bucked once more and he took the cue to thrust deeper and suck on her clit shamelessly.  He continued fervently, making minor adjustments according to her moans, sighs, and mewls.  Her lustful reaction tried his patience as he desperately wanted to touch himself, to share in her pleasure.  Suddenly, she tensed and he could tell she was nearly undone, beginning to soar on the wave of her climax.

“Something...it’s, it’s too much, I can’t…oh, it’s too much!  Maker, CULLEN!”  She screeched at full volume as she came hard against his hand, squeezing her thighs tightly together.  Cullen felt a quick pang of panic knowing she was being entirely too loud and swiftly pulled her upright to capture her continued moans of pleasure with a hearty kiss.  He let her ride his fingers to full completion, continuing gentle movements.  Regardless of his embarrassment, he prayed to never forget how much her screams had coursed through him, heating his blood, and encouraging the throbbing in his breeches to a point it was almost painful.

Decima took many deep breaths with great focus in an attempt to control herself.  She was still clinging tightly at his pauldrons once she was capable of forming words.  Her head had fallen on his breast plate for support.  She looked up at him with wide, searching eyes.  At first Cullen felt proud at his resounding success, but the look she gave him was closer to one of complete shock.  He wrapped his arms around her for comfort.  “I’m sorry, I thought that you…I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No!”  She protested loudly before remembering where they were and lowering her voice, “I mean, no, just the opposite actually.  I truly thought that I was going to explode, it’s never, never been like that before.  Oh- Cullen it was amazing, glorious.  I never knew men could be so pleasurable.”

Cullen was thoroughly confused, “You said you had experience, I just assumed…what did they…I mean, had they not endeavored to see you satisfied?”

“As I said, things are different back home.  For the most part, it’s just more one sided…business like I suppose.”  She averted her eyes and squirmed a bit under his gaze.  “The reasons are complicated, that’s all.”  She flicked one of her hands in a dismissive gesture, conceding that what had happened in the past was not worth further discussion. 

“Besides, none have filled me with desire as you do.  None have plagued my thoughts day and night with wanting.  With you, it’s different…”

He caressed her cheek, rubbing affectionately.  “Never again.  I will always see to your every desire.  You are mine and deserve nothing less than pure enjoyment as I give all that I am to you.” 

Her smile could have lit up the room.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and once again pulled his waist closer by squeezing her legs tighter around him.  She lifted herself closer, nipping his ear, her voice low and lustful.  “Cullen – take me, please.” 

With a husky breath, he lifted her once again to carry her to the ladder that led to his quarters.  Cresting over the top, she swiftly leaped into the bed and curled up in his covers.  She sheepishly grinned at him, challenging him to make his advance. 

“Show me.  I want to see all of you.”  She sat, resting her back against the head of the bed.  He wanted to remember this moment for as long as he lived-her svelte body partially wrapped in his bedding, commanding him to indulge in such delicious carnal pleasure.

He had begun to steadily undo the numerous buckles and ties to his armor, removing what seemed to be countless pieces.  She had begun to lick her lips and sucking a finger while touching herself with her other hand while keeping her eyes locked on him.  She began panting which pushed his actions to lightning speed.  As soon as the last bit of clothing had been shucked, he leapt on the bed with a playful growl.  He then crawled to lay on top of her.  His kisses were desperate and hard as they explored each other’s mouths.  He rolled his hips to press his thick cock against her which didn’t come close to sating his need, but clearly invigorated Decima.  She pushed him up off her with devilish grin.

“Not so fast my valiant Commander.”  She guided him to rest with his back supported by the few pillows he had, similar to how she had been sitting.  She ravaged his body with licks and kisses, exploring every inch of him and giggling at the few sensitive spots she found.  She raked her nails at his sides, making his breath hitch when she hit just the right spots.  He started to tremble as she nipped at his hips while stroking his inner thighs.

“Please, Decima, this is torture.”  He was soon overwhelmed, thinking he may black out as she suddenly took him, _all_ of him deep in her mouth.  He wanted to thrust at the incredible sensation but could tell he was already hitting the back of her throat.  She began long deep strokes, adding pressure with her lips along his length, swirling her tongue around his tip each time she reached the top.  Cullen seized the sheets, knowing his grip would be too tight for her hair.  He wanted to reach out to her, touch her in some way but he was too lost in the constant sting of ecstasy, he feared moving an inch. 

Then it stopped.  He wasn’t sure to be upset that she had paused or thankful that he had a chance to catch his breath and open his eyes.  Cullen’s heart pounded in his chest and echoed in his ears as he began to feel the sweat that was becoming thick enough that it was dripping from his body.

“Are you ready my beloved?”  His mouth hung open, gasping for air as he still found it difficult to draw breath.  _What could possibly_ …he then knocked his head backward against the headboard.  There was no time to register any pain.  She had taken him impossibly deep once more.  She cupped his balls to raise them enough that she could flick her tongue out to taste them while he was still thick in her throat.  His mind and body were an explosion of ecstasy that was almost painful.  He had to force himself to reach out to her with shaking hands, pushing her up off him.

“Please, Maker please.”  Panting heavily he then gripped her shoulders.  “I won’t last another moment with you doing that.”  He wiped sweat from his forehead.  He drew their heads together so he could whisper his desires.

“I need…please, I, let me make love to you.” 

Cullen never knew that such words could have such a profound effect on her.  She beamed at him and crushed her lips to his, greedily consuming him.  Cullen didn’t need any further encouragement.  They were both built up to the point that as she positioned herself over his lap, he easily slid into her, eliciting thick groans from them both.  They both sat up while she rode him steadily as he buried his face in her breasts.  Her taste had been intensified by her sweet sweat, sweat that he put there, that **only** he could put there.  His large hands slid effortlessly over her body, teasing her nipples, causing her head to snap back and her long black curls stuck to the slickness of her back.  They easily found a delicious rhythm that put them both in awe at how well they fit so perfectly together.

He continued to lick and tease ravenously, “Andraste have mercy, you are too perfect for me.” 

“My beloved --Oh!”

The sensual pace was becoming erratic.  She slammed down hard onto him, increasing her speed and rocking harder as he matched with his thrusts.  She grasped with frantic fingers at his back, looking for some way to bring them even closer.  Her fingers found it difficult to find purchase in his skin as their passion was seeping through their skin.  Cullen grimaced at the pain, but found he enjoyed the unleashed lust behind it.

“Cum for me.”  He hissed in her ear, picking up on her trembling as a cue she was near.

 She finally bit into his shoulder, attempting to muffle a scream as her orgasm clenched down on him in pulsing waves.  He was so far gone that it only took a few more deep thrusts to have him spilling his thick seed within her.  The sensation made him feel possessive, as though he were claiming her and dedicating all that he was to her, only her.  They both sat, holding on to each other, afraid to move as every breath, each delicate touch had become electric with their increased sensitivity.  She soon began to dust his face with gentle kisses. 

Cullen guided the pair down to the bed so they lay on their sides, finally separating.  His heart fluttered at how she returned his loving gaze.  He brushed a strand of stray hair from her moistened face, “Something on your mind?”

She snuggled up to him, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder as he turned on his back.  Brushing her fingers across his chest she confessed, “I have never known such satisfaction in my life.  ‘Make love’, by the Maker Cullen, you have held true to such beautiful words.  I never dreamed I would be so blessed.”  She then sat up, leaning over him to look him in the eye. 

His eyelids were heavy in the drunkenness of his expenditure and the adoration from the most wonderful woman he has ever known.  He had a question badgering him from the back of his mind, wondering how her previous partners could have been so terrible, but he quickly squashed it.  It no longer mattered.  She had not loved them, she had not wanted them like he knew she craved him. 

“I love you.  You know that right?”

“I love you too.  I swear that I will always strive to be deserving of your love.”  He leaned upward to kiss her forehead.  “I have never felt anything like this before.”

She leaning forward in kind, bringing their foreheads together in a loving caress that was becoming a symbolic gesture of their strengthened affection, “Neither have I, every day that I walk this earth and beyond, I will cherish only you.”

He let his head fall back against the pillows, sighing at a contentedness he’d never known.  He looked up at the stars peeking in through the gaping holes of the ceiling.  He felt Decima laying flittering kisses on his chest, on the pads of his shoulders, then along his neck.  She peered down at his prone form, “Cullen, tonight has been unforgettable.” 

He closed his eyes and reveled in the solidity of their love.  Their mutual declarations haad welded their souls together and he couldn’t be happier to know he would never doubt again. 

She then trailed her hand down his side to reach lower and found him becoming hard once again as she griped him gently.  Cullen sucked in a surprised breath. 

“Cullen, my beloved.  You made me come unhinged, frenzied with wanton desire that has me wanting to give myself over to you in wicked abandon.  It’s frightening the power you have over me.”  She then climbed on top of him, grinding against his growing erection.  She splayed her fingers on his shoulders, lightly digging her nails into the muscled flesh.  She grinned, biting her lower lip, then leaned forward to have her lips play on his ear as she spoke. 

“Do it again.”

 

***

 

Cullen was fully awake as Decima slinked out of his quarters in the morning’s darkness as if they were guilty teenagers.  He took his time as he readied for the day by dressing in a simple shirt and leather trousers.  He was to meet with Ser Barris to cover basic attacks against demons this morning with some of the newer recruits.  It was easier to demonstrate the fine movements without the bulk of his armor.  As the dawn was peeking over the mountains, Cullen took the cue as time to leave his office and head to the training yard.  He hadn’t felt this refreshed in a very long time.  He found Ser Barris and Ser Perrin already at the yard with only a small handful of soldiers, it was still early.  He greeted each with a genuine smile, “Good morning.”

Ser Perrin returned the smile, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you seem in great health Commander.  You sleep well?”  Her tone gave no indication of innuendo so he felt the question innocent enough to answer freely. 

“Probably the best I’ve had in years, thank you.”  He inhaled the crisp air and enjoyed the beginning warmth of the sun creeping over the ramparts.  Ser Barris had removed his shirt and walked off to collect two practice swords, one each for the Commander and himself.  Cullen followed the other man’s lead and removed his shirt as well.  He had barely let it out of his grasp before he was bashed against the nearest wall by Perrin.

Ser Barris rushed to Cullen’s side defensively and was shoving her off him.  “Are you mad?  What is the meaning of this?!” 

Instead of answering she stammered while she hissed at the Commander, “Please, shirt on, now!  Don’t move from the wall, put it back on quick!”

Ser Barris registered she wasn’t a threat but couldn’t understand the reason behind her ramblings.  He leaned to one side to look the Commander’s back and find what was so offending.  Cullen tilted his head to gauge the seriousness of the source from Barris’s face. 

Barris’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, “Sweet Maker!”

The Knight-Commander rushed for the Cullen’s discarded shirt, pressing it in his hands.  Cullen was unable to contort himself well enough to see what had flustered two of his best soldiers.  He was becoming a bit concerned. “What is it?”

The pair exchanged worried looks.  Perrin gave Barris a slight nod, deciding she would brave giving him the news.  Conscious of the slowly growing crowd prepping for training she leaned in and whispered in his ear.  Cullen swallowed thickly at the revelation, Barris matter-of-factly added, “Worst part is that it’s visible through the shirt as well, Ser.”

Cullen drew on every ounce of his training to control his features to be as solemn as possible.  He took a few steps backward, toward the castle proper. “Knight-Commander, if you don’t mind, would you please take over this morning’s paces?  I need to take care of something.”

Ser Barris gave him a stiff nod and watched the Commander retreat at a brisk pace.  He herd Perrin let out a quiet whistle, “It’s odd to think of the Commander as being a normal person.”

Barris pushed aside his disdain at the inappropriate comment, and was actually intrigued enough to offer his own thoughts.  “Does that make him seem more normal?  I’ve seen the Inquisitor in battle.  The Commander is blessed by Holy Andraste herself to still be in one piece.”

“You’ve got me there Serrah.”  She turned toward the yard.  “Shall we?”  She gestured with one sweeping hand to the recruits who were blessedly ignorant of their Commander’s hasty departure. 

 

***

“Dorian!”  Cullen snatched the book the man had been reading right from his hands and roughly tossed it on a nearby table.

“Well!  Pleased to see you as well Commander.  Honestly, I don’t see how people get off saying you Ferelden barbarians have no manners.” 

“I need some healing, but not here.  It’s… personal, so can you come to my office?  Right now?”

  “Personal is it? You aren’t finally returning my advances are you?  A little shy someone may find out?”  Dorian teased with a wicked grin.

“Maker!  No!  It’s that…it’s personal and I don’t want to go to the healers and I know that Deccima trusts you, for Maker knows what reason, so...”  He cut himself short as he realized he was beginning to ramble. 

“Ah, Commander!  Your flattery has almost persuaded me, I’m surprised that I would be your first choice.  Poor, handsome man, you must be desperate.”  His smile was almost predatory, as if ready to pounce on a particularly savory meal.

“I’m not…”  Letting out a grunt of frustration, Cullen stared impatiently up at the ceiling trying with all of his might to keep his patience at the insufferable quips spilling from the Tevinter. 

Dorian rose from his trademark chair in a decisive manner while rubbing his hands together eagerly.  “Alright, lead the way Commander.”

With a relieved sigh, Cullen led them back to his office.  Once inside he locked the doors which certainly did not escape Dorian’s attention, “Oh, Commander, please you haven’t even treated me to dinner yet.”  He crossed his arms across his chest, proclaiming he certainly _did_ expect dinner.

Deliberately ignoring the comment, Cullen began to pace in front of his desk, his nerves beginning to show.  “I need some healing and I don’t want to be harassed by it.  There is training scheduled for the next few days and I know I won’t be able to keep it hidden.  Can you swear, _honestly_ swear that you won’t give me grief over this?”

Dorian dropped his arms, a rare moment of severity slipped into his tone, “Is this grave?  Wait, you mentioned Decima.  Does this have anything to do with her?”  Dorian finally noticed the broken glass and scattered papers strewn about the office.  He raised a hand to his temple as though to ward off a sudden headache, “You two haven’t been fighting again have you?”

“No!  Of course not, Maker.  You _know_ that wasn’t a fight.  Please swear it!”  Cullen’s pleading tones conveyed his urgency to see the matter quickly concluded. 

Dorian’s curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t refuse such an enticing mystery.  “Alright, alright, no need to get your knickers in a bind.  I hereby swear as the first born of house Parvus that I will not tease you to my heart’s content concerning whatever ailment you have inexplicably contracted.  Will that do?”

Cullen looked about the room anxiously, as if expecting someone to miraculously open one of the locked doors.  He pulled his shirt up over his head, then turned his back to Dorian.  He waited, but there was nothing but silence.  Twisting his head backward, he saw Dorian doubled over, practically eating his hands in a vain attempt to stifle his laughter.

Dorian registered the anger in the Commander’s eyes, “I’m…I’m trying!  I can’t…venhedis, it’s everywhere!” 

His breathing was so erratic that a full sentence was beyond his abilities. The crisscrossed pattern of scratches along Cullen’s back could have only been produced by one act and Dorian couldn’t reconcile the thought of a proper chantry boy being on the receiving end of such unbridled lust.  Decima’s fingernails had clearly marked his back, his entire back, showing the world the intensity of their actions from last night.  Any idiot would have recognized it for what it was. 

Cullen now turned to face him, “Andraste preserve me, could you not behave like a child for one moment?”

Wiping a few tears from his face, Dorian slowly began to regain some composure.  “I suppose I’m to take this as a sign your days of longing glances have blossomed into more than just stolen kisses on the battlements?  It seems a miracle your office is still intact.”  He raised a hand in defense as a murderous Cullen began to advance on him, “My apologies my dear Commander, that will be the last barb you will hear from me.  I should hate for anyone to claim that I am not a gentleman of my word.  Come, come, turn around.  This is simple enough that I can make it like new, unless there is a particular favorite you wish for me save for you?”

Cullen sharply elbowed him in the ribs.  Dorian wheezed, “Ah, yes, well that’s a no?”

Within a few short minutes the lingering traces were smoothed away.  They had been shallow enough that there was no trace left.  Cullen pulled his shirt back over his head and began to gather up paperwork he would need for his next obligation.  “Thank you Dorian, I’m sure that my discomfort brought you no small amount of amusement.”

“Oh indeed!  Indeed it has!  It is I who should be thanking you, my dear Templar.  I must say I am rather excited to see Decima…”

“What are you about mage?!”  Cullen spat with venom as he slammed his hands on the desk sending a few papers wafting to the floor.

“Commander, the Inquisition is blessed to have the lovely ambassador to handle the fine art of negotiation.  I shudder to think how poorly you would perform at such a post.  I swore to not harass you, but no promises were made where our feisty Inquisitor is concerned.”  He flashed Cullen a devilish smile with a heavy emphasis placed on ‘feisty’, letting Cullen know that it wasn’t an idle tease.

_There will be no chance for a fight; she will simply kill me for this._

 


	11. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The siege of Adamant and the cost of war.
> 
> Warning: some descriptions of violence and death

Ser Rylen had his lieutenants meet up with Perrin’s men to oversee the equipment exchange while he followed Perrin to meet with the other Captains to receive the marching orders for the assault on Adamant.  His mind still reeled at the idea.  They were about to challenge the oldest, most noble order known in all of Thedas.  His only comfort was that he and a few of his men had seen the aftermath of the 'trial' which had shown the power that Corypheus currently welded over the Wardens.  His stomach lurched at the thought of the Wardens being corrupted and abused by the ancient magister in order to form a demon army.  The unbidden images of the monstrosities would flicker in his mind as he looked off to the horizon where the silhouette of Adamant fortress towered over the landscape.  

They made their way across the camp easily.  Everyone moved with purpose and all aspects of the army were organized with immaculate precision.  Rylen couldn't help but marvel at the drastic change from the fledging group of 'heretics' they had once been labeled to now having fully trained soldiers, veteran Templars, Orlesian Chevaliers and expensive siege equipment that was graciously loaned on behalf of a few noble allies.  He may have thought it the divine will of the Maker if he were so devout, but he knew that it was actually the tireless efforts of the Inquisition advisors and the Herald who were the ones due credit, not some invisible hand.  Ser Rylen let others indulge in waiting on the power of faith.  He knew that it was the immediate actions of man that won the day. 

As he and Perrin joined the ring of senior officers, he donned a cloak of stern determination.  He drew confidence from the group of veterans, even though some had had less experience with demons and full scale war than he.  Commander Cullen stood behind the makeshift table that had been found and adorned with a map of the area, along with schematics of the fortress itself.  He moved die cast markers as he instructed the group on the battle movements, objectives and unit roles.  Rylen was already familiar with the plan, as was everyone there but it was different receiving the final word from their Commander in person.  Rylen noticed that as the Commander spoke, every word was crisp and stated with finality, "your men shall...once they are over the battlements...after this tower is captured...the trebuchets will..."  There was no doubt in his orders. He spoke entirely as though there would be no other outcome than an Inquisition victory.  

When the commander began to give instructions to the Inquisitor, Rylen began to take notice of how she stood at his side.  He was aware of the rumors, he was assigned to a post in the middle of nowhere which seemed to make his people all the more hungry for gossip.  He had overheard some of his soldiers mention the relationship between the Commander and the Inquisitor, but now he could see it. 

He was unsure if their reserved manner was forced or just came naturally with their priorities focused on the Inquisition.  Regardless, it seemed to be an unspoken agreement that they did not engage in public displays of affection.  Even small touches never occurred.  Others who saw them together would swear that it happened, that they had seen a faint caress, lingering hand holding, but it never truly happened.  It was only when they were together that their intimacy simply radiated from them to imply all of those intimate gestures. 

  The Commander’s stance was clearly protective as he loomed over the inquisitor, or was it possessive?  Commander Cullen stood at her side but a half step behind as though he were shielding her back from a possible threat.  Other than those few small tells, there was nothing in their speech that would lead one to think that they were paramours.  Rylen listened to the two of them speak about the overall plan and go over some possible contingencies.  He began to wonder if they would have even noticed each other if there had been no Inquisition.  They both poured so much of themselves into the cause which caused some to doubt the pair’s intimacy.  

The Inquisitor accepted the Commander’s orders, easily deferring to his advice, with only minor adjustments based on experience with her specialized team.  

“Pass along the orders to your units.”  Commander Cullen addressed the group as a whole, then turned on the horizon.  “In one hour, we march on Adamant.”

The officers spread out to their respective areas in the encampment to execute the Commander’s orders.  Rylen shifted through the list of requisitions that Perrin had handed him.  He made note of some items that he had questions about and wondered if he could catch up with her before she wondered too far.  He backtracked to where the meeting was held, scanning the crowds and tents for her.  In his distracted wondering he found himself stumbling upon the Commander and Inquisitor sequestered in a makeshift alley between tents that was mostly hidden from passersby.  He froze on the spot, hoping his arrival had gone unnoticed.  Rylen peeked around the side of the tent that hid his proximity.  The couple was oblivious to their surroundings, believing that they had found some privacy.  They held each other’s hands and rested their foreheads together, eyes closed in prayer.   They spoke in unison.

‘Maker, my enemies are abundant.  
Many are those who rise up against me.  
But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion,  
Should they set themselves against me.

 

Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure.  
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.’

 

The Commander lifted his head to place a gentle kiss on her brow, then kneaded her hands in his as he gazed at her longingly.  He smiled when he took her left wrist in his hands and lifted it up to examine the leather band that was secured around it. 

“What is this?”  He turned her wrist over in his hand to follow the pattern that snaked around its length.

“Do you like it?  I had Dagna fashion it keep your good luck charm close.  Back home, cherished tokens are placed on the pulse found in the wrist to symbolize keeping someone close to your heart.”  She grinned, knowing that he appreciated the compliment.

“So my coin is in there?”  He kissed the leather without waiting for an answer.  “Varric was right, your culture does have its romantic moments.”

She stepped forward to rest her head against his chest.  “Promise me you will try to stay safe.  I know I ask the impossible, but I want to know you will at least try.” 

“You have my word, so long as you do the same.”  He rested his head against her shoulder, an easy task considering he was slightly taller than she.

They were still holding each other when Rylen felt a jab in his ribs.  He turned to the source and saw Perrin scowling at him and tilting her head to let him know they needed to walk away.  After a few minutes of walking, Rylen broke the silence. 

“Don’t you find it a little inappropriate that…”  He stopped short at the severe look Ser Perrin gave him.  He began to reconsider his thought.  It wasn’t so unusual to see couples torn apart by war.  Thinking on his superiors, they faced the possibility of having to watch the other sacrifice themselves for their cause, to have to stand impotent as destiny took its course.  With what lay ahead, the odds of survival were grim. 

He shook his head.  “Never mind.  It’s not important, I was being childish for a moment.”  Perrin’s features softened in silent understanding, “Here, I had some questions on these requisitions…”

 

***

 

Rylen had taken part in many bloody battle before, but Adamant was a new beast all together.  The injuries inflicted by the demons instantly festered and boiled over with pus, increasing the agony of the victim.  The stone floors were slick with pools of blood, overly sticky in areas of tainted blood.  He witnessed some men being practically boiled in their armor by rage demons.  Others were torn to shreds by monstrous claws before they could raise a shield, soldiers forged on as they were sprayed with the blood of their comrades.  The atrocities that surrounded him fueled his determination to cut down the demons and clear out every last one of them. 

The Inquisitor had carved an access way into the fortress by clearing out the battlements.  It was no surprise considering she had a senior Warden and the Champion of Kirkwall at her side.  Inch by inch, the little ground that the Inquisition gained began to push the tides in their favor.  He trudged on, ignoring his already aching muscles as he saw the possibility that they could gain the battle field advantage.

Then the world shook.  The familiarity of the ground vibrating beneath his feet filled him with dread.  All eyes followed the screeching roar that descended on the Inquisitor and her party in the center courtyard of the fortress.  Corypheus’ dragon instantly set on the Inquisitor, determined to eliminate her from the fight.  Rylen quickly conjured up the mental image of the advancements of the forces in his mind to be able to guess where he could find the Commander amidst the chaos.  He jerked his head toward the northern tower and true to task, the Commander was at the base, directing the efforts of the troops. 

Rylen anticipated that the Commander would divert archers or some mages to assist the Inquisitor.  He waited, but nothing changed.  The elimination of the demon army was the objective, not protecting the Herald.  Changing orders now would only lead to heavier losses.  Rylen barely even knew the Inquisitor and yet he felt the tug in his chest to change their directives, but it would not honor all those who fought now, all those who died before in the name of the Inquisition. 

His men began to regroup around him, having cleared out their area and even gained some Warden warriors who had switched sides in order to aid the Inquisition.  Mission complete, he headed for the Commander to see where he could put his men to the best use.  He had only just reached the Commander when the heavens seemed to erupt.  Everyone turned in time to see the southern façade of the fortress begin to crumble down the cliff face, taking the Inquisitor with the rubble.

“No!”  Rylen found himself calling out instinctively.  Before he could decide his next actions, a large rift opened in the courtyard.  Instantly demons began to pour out.  Commander Cullen grabbed Rylen’s arm and roughly turned him to bring them face to face. 

“Contain the demons!  Do not let them out of this area!  Our forces need a chance to get the wounded to a safe distance!”  As he spoke, Rylen was unable to gauge the Commander’s reaction behind his lion shaped helm.  He now wished he had the luxury to hide his fear.  Then, the Commander was off, searching for more officers to help carry the word and ensure the steadfast focus of the soldiers in the face of possibly having lost their Herald. 

The battle in the courtyard raged on as the fighting around Adamant began to die down completely.  The Commander returned with Templars whose tactics proved to be more effective against the abominations flowing from the tear in the veil.   Rylen slowly ordered some of his own men to retreat back as those who were not injured, gained ground.  A reprieve was finally in sight as a Templar Lieutenant cut down the last wisp wraith. 

“Knight-Commander, get your injured men out of the fortress.”  The Commander turned to the unnatural green rift only yards away from them.  “The rift will not stay quiet long, we need to pull back, save who we can.”

Now, Rylen could hear it, the fear, the despair in Commander Cullen’s voice.  The Commander now had a break in focus and his mind finally had a chance to absorb what had happened to the Inquisitor.  Rylen walked toward him, ready to offer his assistance to look among the rubble, assign his men to scout the area, when the rift crackled violently.  Rylen looked around, it was just the Commander, the Lieutenant Templar and himself that found themselves in the shadow of a massive pride demon. 

The three men launched themselves into battle.  He was thankful that all of them had experience in fighting demons as they danced through attacks that supported each other.  Rylen felt the surge of energy in his sword with each swing from the Blessed Blades enhancement the Templar pushed to the group.  They all continued valiantly in the face of the pride demon who laughed at some of their efforts in an attempt at intimidation.  Rylen did not falter, his rage fueled him on, his anger at the dragon that took their Inquisitor from them.  Rylen found himself with renewed passion.  _For Haven!_   _For the Herald!_

He began to see progress as the demon’s attacks started to get sloppier and less precise, then another crackling flash from the rift.  Rylen groaned inwardly at the prospect of facing more demons and backup still too far to fully engage in battle.  The crackling was followed by heavy grunts and clanking of armor which were distinctly _not_ demonic in origin.  He faced the rift once he had an opening and saw the Seeker, the Tevinter mage and Master Tethras tumble from the rift.  It crackled once again to see the Inquisitor gracefully plunge to the ground.  Rylen’s hopes soared and he turned to shout the great news to the Commander. 

His thoughts were interrupted when he took in the scene before him.  The Commander had noticed the arrival of the team at the same time as Rylen, but was too distracted to see the pride demon gather its last bit of strength for one more attack.  Rylen was too far but he lunged forward regardless.  The Templar was only able to let loose Wrath of Heaven which weakened the blow, but did nothing to change its path.  The Commander was hit hard in the side of the chest, his body flung against a stone wall, blood spurting from the joints in his armor.  His breastplate had been pierced, which was further evidenced by the rapidly pooling blood under his injured form laying immobile on the ground.

The Inquisitor raised her left hand to the pride demon, ripping it to pieces and forcing it back through the rift, then sealing it closed.  A chorus of cheers erupted form the crowd of soldier who had come to their aid. 

Healers rushed to the Commander, pushing Ser Rylen away.  Rylen’s attention was drawn to the Inquisitor who kept the growing crowd busy with purpose as the injured were taken to triage and units regrouped to account for all souls.  She eloquently commanded that that the Wardens were to become allies of the Inquisition.  Rylen was speechless at this edict.  He was amazed that she would grant such a mercy, such an honor on an order that had resorted to blood magic and was responsible for so many Inquisitions deaths.  _Death_.  He turned back to the Commander, hardly seeing him through the throng of healers who had made quick work removing his armor and were even resorting to the expertise of a surgeon.  Then he saw it happen.  The noise around him silenced, the motion of the world slowed to an agonizing pace.  He watched as the collection of healers ceased their efforts and slumped their shoulders at the weight of their failure.  Rylen called out to the Inquisitor.  He thought he did, the memory faded so quickly.  Everything around him was a blur of movement – activity – life – victory – all in stark contrast to the man that had made it all come to pass. 

The Inquisitor appeared at the Commander’s side, on bended knee, blades still in hand.  The Templar that had aided them earlier, approached her from behind.  He was the only one that braved to show any indication of condolence. He set one hand on her shoulder, the contact startling her to drop her weapons. 

Rylen was no stranger to death.  He knew the smell in the air, the unease that snaked into a man’s spine.  He watched her reach for the Commander and knew what her hands found beneath the tattered clothing.  Cold, wet skin that was beginning to take on a blue hue marking it as soulless, devoid of anything that characterized it as being the living man they had known and admired.  She choked on her breaths.  Her eyes continued to scan his lifeless form, looking for anything that might change the damning diagnosis.

“Cullen.”  Her hands began to shake, her cool demeanor cracking slowly.  “Cullen, our work is not done.  I can’t …you promised me…you promised.”

 

For the first time in his life, Ser Rylen called out to the Maker in an quiet plea for a miracle. 


	12. Not So Secret Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is not he same after Adamant.

The Inquisition’s army had just arrived back at Skyhold from the battle at Adamant.  Dorian crossed the threshold of his quarters lacking the typical joy he found when returning to the comfort and familiarity of his moderately opulent room.  He swished his wrist in the direction of the fireplace to get the blaze started.  He moved around the room mechanically, giving little thought to much of what he was doing.  On his desk were neatly piled correspondence, ancient tomes with his notes delicately tucked between the pages and a fine bottle of Tevinter wine that his past self had laid out for his future self to use now as a toast following the victory at Adamant.

He picked up the bottle and hefted it lightly in his right hand.  His first impulse was to throw it into the fire as a way to vent his raging emotions.  As though punishing the object would bring him some peace.  He smirked at the thought, then popped the top to pour a glass.  He swirled the fine liquid in a royal blue glass as he sauntered to stand by the fire.  Thinking back on his first impulsive use for the bottle he took a sip, _these damn southerners are trying to have their filthy habits rub off on me_.  The acidic taste reminded him of bloody battlefields - of Adamant.  

It can be universally agreed upon that it has been a particularly shitty day when walking in the fade while fighting demons was not the worst part of it.  He brought his free hand up to his eyes, pressing on the lids, unsure how to deal with the hurt he felt.  

A knock at the door saved him from finding a resolution.  The Iron Bull let himself in, kicking the door closed behind him.   _Ah, lovely, a distraction!_

"Well, it is evident that mercenaries aren’t paid for their good manners"

"Cut the crap Dorian.  I want you to tell me what the fuck happened."

"Manners!  Just because you dress like the chasind doesn’t mean you should resort to behaving like one.”  Bull was wholly unamused, crossing his arms across his chest.  Dorian shrugged.  “What is there to tell?  We marched our soldiers in pretty little rows to a crumbling waste of a fortress, had good time and giggles in the fade, then came home glorious victors just like the epic tales say heroes do."

The Iron Bull did not let his irritation show, but Dorian knew it was there.  After how rough the past few days had been, he didn't care.  

Bull loomed over him.  "It seems you left out a big part."  While taking another sip, Dorian quirks his eyebrows up questioningly.

"The Commander."

"Ah, yes well, _that._ ". He lowered his glass in front of him, playing his thumb across the etchings as an excuse to avoid Bull's stare.  "I take it that a raven was sent ahead of us.  Cassandra’s doing, yes?"

"You know I'm not leaving until I get the whole story, you were right there beside her."

"Well, then I don't see why you would ask me.  It seems you would be better off pestering her."

Bull took a seat in one of the wing back chairs by the fire, the legs squeaking in protest at the weight.  As much as Dorian wished to avoid the conversation, he was glad for the company.  "I would be better off asking her damn horse, besides I saw you when you came through the gate.  You have adjusted well to all of the seriously fucked up shit we've run into but this, somehow this is different."

"Tell that just from a look did you?"  He didn't wait for an answer.  He walked back to the desktop to pour Bull a glass and refill his own.  The offered wine glass vanished in Bulls massive hand, he used his other to wave Dorian to the chair opposite his own.  The distance was only a few short steps, but they felt like an eternity as Dorian struggled with the dilemma of whether or not to tell Bull _all_ that had happened.  

Bull was the epitome of patience, he wasn't staring him down or sending threatening glares, Bull was just waiting.  Dorian sighed dramatically in resignation.  "Alright, but don't interrupt, you'll ruin the eloquence of the tale.  I'll stop when I want, no sooner.  There are additional circumstances I need you to understand, yes?"

Bull nodded to simultaneously agree and encourage Dorian to begin.

"Let’s see, we had just tumbled out of the fade having left Hawke to fulfill his destiny as a tragic hero to ensure our escape..."  
  
***  


The rift had unceremoniously dumped the whole of the party onto the pavers in the courtyard.   Dorian pushed himself up with a jolt of fear when he felt the massive blast of Wrath of Heaven echo from the walls.  He turned to the source just in time to see a pride demon send Cullen flying against the stone walls like a rag doll.   Furious, Dorian charged his mana for an attack when he saw the abomination ripped to shreds by the swirling vortex of the rift which was now responding to Decima's command.  She deftly took control of the situation and began barking orders to any one nearby while healers rushed to Cullen. 

For the most part, Dorian ignored much of what Decima had said about the Wardens and was busy righting his robes and lamenting stains that were no doubt permenant.

Then the world paused. 

He was unsure what had made him look but he saw Decima approach Cullen’s body.  Off to the side he saw Cassandra fall to her knees and clutching on to Varric who hugged back in comfort and mutual hurt, further adding to the impossibility of the scene before him.  Dorian was desperate to find some element that would mark this happenstance as fake, some cruel joke conjured up by a demon, but as he walked closer to Decima, the reality was inescapable. 

Decima was at Cullen’s side, on bended knee, blades still in hand.  The Templar that had aided them earlier, approached her from behind.  He was the only one that was brave enough to show any indication of condolence. He set one hand on her shoulder, the contact startling her to drop her weapons. 

Decima rested her hands on Cullen's chest.  An avalanche of emotion was pounding ruthlessly at the floodgates of her practiced self-control.  One of her fingers dipped into the hole left by the demon and was when Dorian noticed her change in expression.  He moved even closer, unsure what this meant.

"I know this. I--I can fix this..."  She reached to her side, grabbing the thinnest of her blades.  She unceremoniously wiped it on a small patch of mostly clean fabric at her thigh.  She then placed the tip between his third and fourth ribs.  She felt around the area as though double checking the placement, then she quickly shoved the dagger shallowly into his chest.  That was all that was needed for there to be a loud pop which was followed by Cullen instantly and violently lurching forward to cough up blood.  

“Dorian!"

She needn't have even shouted as he was already swooping down to the Commander’s side to begin healing.  He was already a bit drained from his battles in the fade.  As he worked, a creeping fear grew up his spine, _I don't have enough, it's not going to be enough._

"Sweetheart, I’m going to need lyrium."

The nearby mages had already exhausted their supplies.  The Templars were equally empty handed.  Dorian did not cease his efforts but began racking his brain to search for an alternative.  Decima placed her left hand on his shoulder.

“Use me."  She made the anchor flicker showing that it still had power even after banishing the pride demon.

Cullen was beginning to fade again leaving Dorian no other choice but to reach out to the anchor.  There was intense resistance at first but he could tell that Decima was concentrating to let him in.  His power was finally able to dip into the pool of fade energy, pulling out long strands of raw magic and then reweaving them to fit his purpose.  It would have been beautiful if not for the gravity of the situation.  

In a few moments color returned to Cullen's complexion.  His rigid muscles that were wracked in pain relaxed, easing his body back flush to the ground.  Dorian was thankful for the rapid results the stronger power afforded, but controlling it was extremely taxing.  He let his magic ease away from the anchor, folding back loose strands that had overflowed from his meddling.  

Just as he was breaking his connection, he felt it.

His heart stopped.  

His magic dissipated.  

He stared blankly at the ground, rolling the discovery around continuously in his mind.  

Dorian heard Stroud call out to Decima as he approached.  She leapt to her feet and Dorian was quick to follow, knowing he would have to catch her after he had practically drained her.    
Dorian supported the nearly limp Decima as she cut off Stroud from whatever he had planned to say.

"You will fix this.”  She scanned her eyes markedly to their surroundings to indicate the whole Grey Warden situation.  “Mark my words that the Wardens will be making reparations for these actions for the rest of its void-forsaken existence."

She lurched forward with such force Dorian nearly lost his balance as he was forced to quickly readjust to be able to continue supporting her.  She grabbed at Stroud's armor to pull his face beside hers, pressing their cheeks together.  She snarled in his ear.

“If he dies, I will take it out of your hide.    You will spend every fucking day of your miserable life begging to the Maker that I had left you to be slaughtered in the fade.”

She then slumped fully in Dorian’s arms, the last of her strength having been spent in voicing the chilling promise.  She slipped out of consciousness by the time the Knight-Lieutenant was at Dorian’s side, recognizing that Dorian was too exhausted to carry her on his own.  The Templar lifted her up in his arms, cradling her like an infant to his chest.  Captain Rylen and Cassandra had carefully moved Cullen to a stretcher and were carrying him to triage.  Dorian flanked the Knight-Lieutenant and they followed with the Inquisitor. 

Once the group made its way out of Adamant, a healer rushed to meet them and guide them to a three sided tent in the triage area.  It was small and gave a bit of privacy to the Inquisitor and Commander as they healed, yet open enough that all knew they yet lived.  

The Mage healer who had greeted them gave instructions to lay the two on cots which had been prearranged with medicinal supplies organized nearby for quick access.  

Dorian was not sure when everyone had left the tent, he just suddenly realized that he and the Knight-Lieutenant were the only ones present.  Looking to fill the silence, Dorian turned to the Templar.  

"I couldn't help but notice that you managed to execute a Holy Wrath with maximum effectiveness while managing to avoid striking me.  Although, I hate to admit it to any Templar, I'm quite impressed."

It was then the Templar removed his helm.  Dorian knew the man immediately.  

“Fasta Vass, it’s you!”

Ser Gawain gave a single curt nod, keeping his head slightly down turned. "I have learned from my mistakes Master Pavus.  They will not be repeated."

Looking up again he stared at the Commander and the Inquisitor.  “Her words pulled me from a dark place.  She saved my soul so that it may continue to serve the Maker.  Her comfort showed the faith she had in me.  It was me, a scared child that she had barely met, to whom she offered salvation.  She allowed me a chance at redemption and I owe her everything.  I…”  His composure finally broke as his final sentence became caught in his throat. 

"It seems our Lady Inquisitor has a habit of rummaging in the gutter and pulling out men like ourselves for our own good.  Overly sympathetic if you ask me."

Gawain shook his head once to regain control, then Dorian could tell that a debate battled in the young man’s head.  Gawain looked around almost guiltily.  Dorian blatantly stared at the man hoping his inquiring look would encourage him to be forth coming with the cause of his disquiet. 

Gawain held the silence longer as he looked at Dorian, then finally asked. "Master Pavus, would you mind helping me a moment?"  

He then gestured to Decima with one hand.  Running a finger along his irreproachably perfect mustache, an intrigued Dorian followed Gawain to Decima's cot.  Gawain motioned with two hands that he wanted to move the cot.  Dorian took up his post by her feet.  They lifted in unison and Gawain guided their actions to place the cot back down directly next to Cullen.  

Dorian watched as the Templar stepped back a respectable distance and set his sword in the sand, then offered Andraste a prayer to watch over and preserve them.  Gawain stood to sheathe his sword and as he began to leave he offered parting words to Dorian. 

"Sometimes just knowing someone is nearby is all the strength we need to continue on.  Good day Master Pavus, Maker watch over you."

Dorian watched the receding figure of the man he couldn't reconcile as the impetuous fuck up from months ago. He turned to have one last look at the recovering pair before seeking out rest himself.  At some point during Dorian’s and Gawain’s conversation, they had found each other's hand and had entwined their fingers together.  Dorian must have been hallucinating from his drained mana, but it seemed the two now breathed with greater ease.  That must be the cause, as he was not one who was inclined to entertain romantic frivolities.

 

***

 

"That's a nice story and all, I really like the fluff you added at the end but, I need to know, what did you feel when you were using the anchor."

Dorian set his empty glass down on the side table next to his chair.  "Why does it matter to you?  Are you going to run and tattle to our overly nosy spymaster?"

"It matters because I saw how it affected you.  You arrived at Skyhold at the back of the party.  You didn't help Master Dennet with your mount.  You're not drinking in the tavern and you're being more defensive of Decima than usual."

"Why shouldn't I be?  Our lady Herald has done nothing but show complete devotion to this cause as well as the people who are a part of it, even those who initially don’t seem worth saving."  Dorian belatedly realized he had not changed before sitting down.  Bull was right about his being distracted, now the chair's silk upholstery was undoubtedly ruined from his travel soiled robes.

"And yet, somehow what you felt might change that."  Bull continued to pry, leaning forward in his chair.

Dorian stared at Bull, wondering how much of the truth he saw when the man looked at him.  He sighed heavily, knowing that Bull would work it out of him one way or another.  "Someone has binded her."

Dorian felt a smug surge I victory as Bull fell back in his chair, unable to process what he had said.  It was a rare feat indeed to catch Bull at a loss for words.  "Are you saying that she is a Mage?  A demon?!?"

"Neither, so don't worry your pretty little horns over that.  The binding spell used on the Herald is different than I've ever seen used on spirits or even other mages, but it is unmistakably a binding spell that connects her to someone else."

"Shit". Bull grabbed the bottle from the table, downing it all in one go.  He slumped in the chair, leaning his head back.

"I know."  Dorian crossed his legs at the knees.   "She is certainly the puppet of the bond, to what degree, I can't tell."

Bull groaned.  Dorian could hear the regret behind it, Bull wishing he'd never asked.  "So, what now?  Is some Magister using her to bring down the Inquisition from within?  Is this Bosquel taking advantage of the instability in Thedas?  Arg! Fucking blood magic."

"Ah!  Well, at least on that point my dear friend I can put your mind at ease.  The magic used in this instance is most likely not from a blood magic ritual."

"You and Krem both.  Honestly are all Vints like this?  ‘Most likely’ isn't blood magic.  Krem said that there ‘most likely’ wouldn’t be any demons when we joined the Inquisition.  You see how well that has turned out."

"I suppose you can never trust a pretty face then."  Dorian flashed him a wicked grin.

Bull rose and took slow steps to the door.  As he placed his hand on the latch to leave Dorian called across the room. "What will you tell the good Sister?"

"That there is a binding spell on the Inquisitor that is not blood magic but we should keep an eye on."  Bull then laid his hand against the door to support his weight as his balance had been thrown off by a grim realization.

"Red needs to know in case we have to take drastic measures.  I don't want to have to kill her."

Dorian remained silent, but quietly agreed.

Bull lightly pounded a fist into the door.  "Fuck."

Dorian dismissed Bull with a wave of his hand.  "Another time, I have a headache tonight.  Road weary and all that."

In the silence of his dimly lit quarters, Dorian looked around at the lush fabrics, thick draperies that spilled onto the floor and expensive furnishing wondering how much satisfactory release he would find in torching everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chest stab that Decima does is inspired by the field procedure done to relieve a collapsed lung.


	13. One Last Day of Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian isn't the only one to make a startling discovery.

Decima and Cullen had rode side by side at the head of their forces.   Those too severely injured to travel were left at Griffon Wing keep to recover.  She was thankful their losses weren't as bad as they initially thought, still far more than they wanted.  She looked over at Cullen and admired the striking figure he made astride his war horse.  Travel didn't allow much time for personal hygiene other than the main necessaries which had his curls being more pronounced.  His five o'clock shadow had become just shy of a beard.  This new rugged appearance sent her heart racing.  Even with his left arm bound tight to his chest, he was unmistakably intimidating and in command.  She wanted him to the point of complete distraction, yearning for him to glance her way.  

She wanted his rough voice in her ear, his weapon blistered hands running along her body, his thickness filling her.  The closer they got to Skyhold, the more vivid her imagination became.  As she felt her horse rocking underneath her, she even briefly fantasized Cullen using a similar rolling pace with her.  She saw him look over and caught a beautiful smirk crack through his serious demeanor.  _Oh, if only you could read my thoughts._

Immediately inside the gates at Skyhold she noticed Dorian abandoned his horse and immediately headed for the castle.  She couldn’t blame him, it had been an extremely difficult mission and he hadn’t been too thrilled to have traveled through the fade.

Once Cullen dismounted he instantly began organizing his Captains and collecting reports.  He spent a good half hour standing outside the stables ensuring that all matters were attended to.  The messengers, Captains and arbitrary associates had finally stopped seeking his attention.  Cullen flexed his shoulders and headed for his tower office, a fist full of missives tucked into his restrained hand. 

Decima was leaning against the wall next to the stairs she knew he would attempt to climb.  “And where do you think you're going?"

"To bed?"  His intonation made it seem that Cullen’s first response would have been, ‘to work?’

"Not that way you're not.  How do you expect to get to your bed with your arm like that?"

He reached up with his good arm to rub at his neck, slightly embarrassed.  “Well, I have slept at my desk often enough, I figured…”

She reached out to him, using both hands to grab ahold of the fabric at his waist to pull him close.  His broad smile was too perfect.  “I believe that due to the severity of your injuries, it is prudent for the Commander of our victorious forces to have a proper, decent night’s sleep.”

Cullen's eyes darted around them.  He lowered his voice, "Are you certain that's what you want?  I don't want... That is, people will talk and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"The Void take them.  There is nothing anyone could say that would keep you from me right now."  She stood up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek.  She then nipped at his ear eliciting a subdued groan from Cullen.  She made a mental note to settle all of their small disagreements in this manner. She wrapped her arm around his right so that he may escort her to her chambers.  

The great hall was sparsely populated since it was long past sunset.  Of the few nobles that were left, all eyes were on them.  Judging by the scowls she caught on some of the women's faces, Decima had dashed the marriage dreams of more than a few of them.  Cullen was sure to be pleased to no longer have to deal with that type of attention.

Bull crossed paths with them has he came from the Solar.  "Boss!  Cullen!  Glad to see the news was true about your miraculous survival."  Bull clapped a hand on Cullen's left shoulder causing him to wince, undoubtedly on purpose.  

"I need to talk to Red, so I won't keep you."  He looked at Decima.  "I bet you are eager to tend to his injuries? Play at healer?"  He winked with a smug grin on his face.    
She shoved him good-naturedly as hard as she could, the mountain of a Qunari hardly moved, but took the hint.  He continued past chuckling to himself.

Cullen narrowed his eyes in confusion.  "What is he talking about?  Of course you know how to do field dressings.  I'm certain you've even tended to him a few times."

She tried to suppress a laugh knowing Bull would have found Cullen's comment perversely amusing.  She turned back to see Bull had met up with Leliana and the two were headed back through the Solar, most likely to her office in the rookery.

Even with only one arm available, Cullen chivalrously opened the massive door that led to her room.  Finally in the solitude of her bedroom, Decima pressed Cullen hard against the closed door.  Ignoring his grunt of pain, she grasped his head in both hands, threading her fingers into his gorgeous curls, and forcing a ravenous kiss on him.  He responded in kind, deepening the kisses by wrapping his arm around her and pulling her up into him.  They both twitched at how the action irritated their injuries but moaned even louder at how the intimate contact began to relieve days’ worth of restraint.  

With a knock at the door Cullen let out a primal growl in frustration as he bit her lower lip, reluctant to let go.  Decima's breath hitched at the sensation from the combination of the two.   _More…give me more..._

"GO AWAY!"  Cullen's impatience was apparent in his terse dismissal.  She pushed away from him and gave him a chiding look.

"I only take orders from Her Worship herself, thank you verra much."  A gruff older woman's voice responded through the door.  

Decima pushed away from Cullen and opened the door.  A tray popped through adorned with fresh, hot food.  "You take this one my lady, I'll bring the tea."  

The two made their way up the last few steps, past Cullen to deposit the trays on the coffee table in front of the fire.  "I heard the two of you were headed up here.  You'll have to forgive an old woman for being so slow.  I know you would wish to be alone but I canna have you starvin’ to death."  She looked over the trays, assuring herself very thing was in its place then set a satchel on the couch.  

"There are more clean bandages in there as well as a few other useful bits.  Now then," She turned to Decima.  "would you like some help getting cleaned up or have I already worn out my usefulness?"

Decima pulled the delightful woman into a heartfelt hug.  She couldn't imagine coming home to a better welcome.  "Thank you Nemira, but I do believe you're right."

Nemira nodded with a smile then headed for the door.  As she walked by Cullen, he gave her a slight bow.  "I offer my apologies ma'am for having forgotten my manners earlier."

"Entirely unnecessary, but much appreciated all the same.  Enjoy your evening."  She looked back to Decima, “Oh, he’s certainly a keeper Your Worship.”

Nemria continued her trek to the door just in time to miss the sweeping blush that inflamed Cullen's face.   _By the Maker he was irresistibly adorable_.

The door closed and Cullen turned to Decima gesturing at the door.  "And that is why I said this was a bad idea."

She stalked up to him, single-mindedly interested in only one thing.  She loosed the restricting band of his sling then easily removed his chest plate, having long ago learned it's release points.  "And this is why it's a good idea."

She continued undressing him and he returned the favor, helping her out of her armor.  "Besides, you don't have to worry about Nemira saying anything.  She is quite loyal, especially after I had Sera help her family back home.  

"Red Jenny work?  I don't recall anything..." 

Decima blushed and shied away slightly.  "I may have tasked Sera without bringing it to the war table."  

Cullen stared down at her, all the more overwhelmingly handsome now that he was shirtless and she could see every muscle ripple under his skin as he continued to disrobe her.

He brushed kisses to her neck and along her shoulder, then mumbled into her skin.  "Dare I even ask what she did?"

"Mmm…”  She sucked in a breath between her teeth.  “Perhaps not.  Just know that Josephine is pleased that a certain Arl is no longer pestering her about tolls through his lands on public roads."  

Cullen laughed as he picked up her nude form.  He made it three steps before pain seized him and he had to drop her back on the floor.  Neither were braced for the sudden movement and wound up crumpled together on the floor.  Cullen rolled off of Decima and swore under his breath.  “Andraste preserve me, are you alright?”

 “I think I should ask you.” Staring at each other Decima couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous state they had found themselves.  Cullen joined her as he pulled her close to him.  Sitting up, he tested his arm again by stretching to his side, then up over his head.  

"Using it puts too much strain on my ribs, I'm not sure I'll be of any use tonight."  His words were coated with regret.  

“Not much use?  That, Ser, sounds like a challenge my sweet Commander.”  She grabbed at him through his trousers, loving the instant reaction to her touch when he lolled his head back and spread his legs welcoming her caress. 

"Are…ahem, are you…aah…certain you're not hungry?"  He nodded in the direction of the trays, his speech impaired by her continued attention.  She could tell that he was only being polite and that he secretly hoped the answer was ‘no’.  

“Not for anything over there.”  Decima then bit her lip as she began to think of ways to make it work.  Cullen was no help at all as he continued to kiss at her neck and ears while twisting his fingers through her loosed hair, smiling against her skin at the moans which escaped from her.

"I have an idea."  She leapt up and rushed to one of her trunks so quickly that Cullen stumbled forward.  She retrieved a long red sash then leaped up on her canopied bed.  She tied it at the center into the framework so that there were two ends of the fabric hanging free over the center of the bed.  Grabbing an end with each hand she tested it with her weight.  

Cullen rose from the floor and was at the side of the bed, completely intrigued by her handiwork.  "What are you doing?"

She couldn't help a smug grin from showing how pleased she was at her cleverness.  "Come lie down, I'll show you."

Cullen climbed onto the bed with some hesitance, his motions showing he still favored his left side.  He lay where she had indicated.  Decima tugged off his trousers and then moved to straddle him and could tell he was holding his breath, waiting for her weight to aggravate his wounds.  She held tight to the soft fabric, wrapping the loose ends around her wrist and forearms.  It supported most of her weight as she eased against him, "How is that?"

She knew she must have looked quite the sight with her hands strung up beside her head as if sitting in an invisible swing.  Cullen only confirmed her suspicions when he quirked up a side of his mouth in a pleased smile as he rested his hands back behind his head, relaxing further into the soft bed.  "Does this mean you intend to do all the work?"  

She leaned forward, arms pulled back behind her as she held the sash.  She hovered her exposed breasts over Cullen's face.  "That depends if I can be adequately convinced."

He greedily buried his face in between her soft flesh, his beard having become softer rather than scratchy at its new length.  The fresh sensation sparked her nerves and sent a hot tingle of desire to her willing cunt.  As he suckled and teased she loudly voiced the effect he had on her.  Her pleasure was further heightened by the fact that her arms were restrained behind her.  The thrill that she was presenting her body for him, an offering for him to indulge in had her core fluttering with impassioned need.  She ached, wanting to sate her need for his cock to fill her, yet she couldn't find the willpower to move from her spot.

She shivered as his hands ghosted across her body then finally one of them settled on her mound, adding pressure while his fingers explored her wetness.  

"Oh-" The sounds he made as he explored her body had her heart soaring.  Her ragged breathing let him know how badly she needed fulfillment.  "Come, let me please you."  

He used his wet hand to begin stroking his engorged cock.  She pulled herself upright again, allowing him easy access to plunge into her. 

“Maker, you are so tight.”  She could see by his admiring expression how he enjoyed watching her take him in.  The sash gave her more freedom to sway and rock, eliciting new pleasures and thick groans from them both.  

She soon became lost to her senses. She loved how comfortable they had become with each other.  Tilting her head back, she continued her slow soothing pace.  The way his strong hands kneaded into her skin she felt appreciated.  With Cullen it was never about what she could do for his status, what he could gain from her in alliance.  It was only their companionship, his want to be with her.  She desired nothing more than to stay lost with him forever.

He would never hurt her.

She was jolted out of her reverie when Cullen bucked up deeper in her.  She gasped and drew herself up off him.

"Oh that's not fair.  First you tease me by keeping me on the edge and now you deny me completely?"  His mockingly angry tone had her giggling at his struggle.    

He pleaded, just as amused as she was. "What would you have me do?  Beg?"

He playfully slapped at her ass.  "I have spent the past week watching your hips on the back of that blighted horse.”  He spanked her lightly again on the other side when she only responded with laughter.  “You had me jealous of a horse!" 

"Tell me, my gorgeous Commander, what do you want?" she purred.

"You."  His thick raspy voice rumbled from deep in his chest.  "You have no idea the torture these past few days have been."

She looked down at him tenderly.  "Yes. I do."

Her words of reciprocated sexual frustration had made Cullen snap.  His disciplined composure was utterly forgotten.  He grabbed her waist with his good hand and frantically succumbed to his base need to fill her.  His pace was fast but satisfyingly deep.  The sashes allowed her to arch backward at an otherwise impossible arc which gave them both a magical new angle that incurred even more lustful friction and had them both shatter at the same time.  Decima clutched at his hips with her thighs as she ground the waves of her climax against him.  

“Maker, Cullen!”  She marveled how the intensity had her body pulsing, clenching around his cock in reward of his lack of control.  She waited for them to stop before untangling herself and melting down next to him.  She became startled as she laid her head on his chest and felt his tension.  Like a bolt of lightning she sat up.  

"Cullen are you alright?!" She felt as though something was very wrong.  She prayed she hadn't been too brash and re-injured him.  She began to push aside some of his bandages to check for the tell-tale signs of internal bleeding.  "Maker what have I done?  Where does it hurt?"

Her panic caused him to break out of his own thoughts.  "Easy, I'm fine.  I’m fine."  He reached out to caress her cheek reassuringly.  She was unable to calm her nerves until he pulled her forward for a gentle kiss.  She pressed her forehead to his, "Sorry beloved, I can't help but worry sometimes.  You are everything to me."

As she settled curled next to him, he wrapped his arms around her.  He squeezed her affectionately.  "I will always love you."  

His whisper turned to soft kisses on her neck through her thick black hair.  As she drifted to sleep in the safety in his embrace, she was able to shed the tension and stress from the recent mission.  With Cullen at her side, his strength, confidence, dedication...love, she felt at home.  


***

 

By mid-morning Cullen was trudging through the training yard, especially irritated that he had let Decima talk him into one more day of the blighted arm sling.  He couldn't help but be short with many of the trainees, his mind stuck on the previous night and his body weary from lack of sleep.  He ordered the group to take a water break.  Today his withdrawal had ice cold claws gripping the full length of his spine, twisting, grinding his nerves against the jagged vertebrae.  He needed a moments' silence to try and refocus his mind away from the pain.  

Unexpectedly he caught a flash of white walk past.  He turned to see a smiling Inquisitor in full armor walking with a large pillow stuffed under each arm.  She caught his gaze then waved at him as best she could with her fluffy burden with no intention to stop.  She was headed for the tavern.  A messenger took his attention away from the bemusing sight.

"Commander, Sister Leliana says she needs you right away.  She and the Madam Ambassador are waiting on Madam Vivianne's balcony."

"Thank you, I will be there momentarily."  Cullen looked through the crowd of his troops to find Captain Perrin.  He gave her a nod and pointed to the castle.  She understood that she was to take over while he was gone.  He checked back over at the tavern to catch the Inquisitor yelling up at Sera in her second story window, tossing pebbles through the open panes.  He shook his head and walked up the stairs to the great hall.  Before entering the castle he heard a roar of encouragement from the gathered soldiers who were supposed to be training.  He turned back again to see that Sera had leapt down from her room and was now engaged in a full contact pillow fight with Decima.  Cullen laughed at the ridiculous sight then returned to his original purpose. 

 

Cullen greeted the two women as the climbed the last step into Viviane’s area.  Leliana gestured for them to convene on the balcony.  Leliana was the one to start, she recounted Dorian’s tale, emphasizing that the Inquisitor was at the mercy of the binding.

“You don’t seem too surprised Commander…”  Josephine observed. 

“I felt it for the first time last night.  At first, I wasn’t sure what it was.  She has lyrium tattooed within her bones.  It isn’t the same as when a mage or Templar takes it which can fade if not consumed on a regular basis.  It’s there permanently.  It must be from the ritual that Dorian mentioned.”

“You didn’t think to question her?”  Leliana was amazed, yet not too surprised. 

Cullen shrugged, offering no explanation.  He looked back down to the courtyard.  It seems that Decima had planned this display all along.  While she had been fighting Sera, Bull had gone into Sera's room and tossed down one of Sera’s gaudy throw pillows.  True to the name, it was quickly thrown among the chargers and the Inquisitor with a severely pissed off Sera scrambling to get it back.

 “I tell you that the woman who leads one of the most powerful forces in Thedas, a woman whom you take to bed,” Cullen turned on her sharply, scowling.  Leliana was unfazed and ploughed forward. “is susceptible to being controlled by some unknown influence and you answer with nothing?”

"What would you have me do?!  I know everything that she likes, doesn't like.  How she has a meal that is identical to the one from our first date every time she returns to Skyhold.  How she has used Inquisition resources to help everyone but herself.  For the sake of Andraste she offered herself up to that archdemon, **twice** , to preserve our ranks.”  He raked his hand though his hair, frustration causing him to pace the balcony.  “Then…then last night everything comes crashing down when I sensed that fucking lyrium."

Both women visibly flinched at his uncharacteristic swearing.

“I manage to have the best and worst night wrapped together.  I couldn’t sleep after that, I couldn’t stay in bed and be near the hum.”  He sighed in frustration.  “It’s getting louder.  Something is changing.” 

Leliana was the first to respond.  "This is not good.  I have also been receiving preliminary reports that a large group may be on its way from Bosquel.  The reports seem inconsistent since the same group has been spotted in numerous locations that are too far apart for all of the reports to be accurate, regardless whoever was looking for her is now on their way."

The rising noise from below caught Cullen’s attention again.  The childish game of keep away had progressed to blades and the soldiers excitedly egging them on.  Varric had appeared out of nowhere and was taking bets.   Bull cheered on his men, watching it all as he sat, legs dangling from one of Sera's windows.  It was a playful free-for-all that had brought a much needed morale boost to the soldiers. 

He turned back to the other advisors, pointing to the entertainment below.  "Tell me she isn't genuine.  Tell me this is all a lie I have fallen for."  He fumbled to pull out a note from his pocket.  "Tell me that she is doing _this_ just for show, and that she cares nothing for those who she sends to battle and mocks the Maker when she prays for their souls."

Leliana read the note over Josephine's shoulders.  Josephine folded the note and in a hushed tone responded, "I can have these names ready by this evening."

Leliana dipped her head down, staring at her hands.  When she raised it again Cullen saw no trace of the spymaster, only a dearly concerned, empathetic friend.  "Cullen, I know that this is difficult for you.  Many years ago I was betrayed by my lover.  She had me imprisoned, tortured.  Eventually she hunted me down and I was forced to kill her."

Cullen braced himself for the chastisement he was sure would follow.  He had neglected due diligence for the illusion of love.  He prioritized the fleeting embrace of comfort over the goals and safety of the Inquisition. 

He had been a blind fool.

Leliana pulled him into a soft hug, whispering in his ear.  "I understand more than anyone how much you still love her."

He let out one single chocked cry into her shoulder, holding her tight to suppress the sound.  It was all he could allow himself.  Laughter and cheers continued to rise and fall from the courtyard below.  He stepped back, once he had collected his composure.  Josephine reached for his hand to give a reassuring squeeze.  "There is still hope that our assumptions are wrong.  She has done miraculous things before."

Cullen unconsciously brought a hand to his chest, hovering over the bandaged wounds, then returned to the edge of the balcony.  "Allow me one more day.  I need for everything to be normal for just one more day."  

Cullen placed both hands on the balustrade, leaned forward and hung his head.  His withdrawal symptoms were the least of his worries.  He never heard them leave as he continued to stare out over the vista, inattentive to the passing of time. 


	14. No More Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time has run out and now everything changes.

Ser Rylen was enjoying his time at Skyhold, although the circumstances which called for the short break were grim.  He returned with the bulk of the army following the victory at Adamant two days ago.  He had spent most of his time working with the requisitions office to reprioritize supplies and placing orders with the blacksmiths to replace the battle worn armor of his troops which were also suffering from the strain of the infernal heat and sand in the desert.  The reorganization was needed since the Commander had recently included Adamant fortress as an additional responsibility.  As he walked through the training yard he completed his mental checklist for what seemed the hundredth time, looking for anything that he could have possibly forgotten.  He shook his head in mild frustration, conceding he needed a bit of a break.  He smiled briefly to himself, _I wonder if Carra is working this morning._   Carra had flirted with him on occasion prior to his assignment to the Western Approach.  She had snuck him sweet breads in exchange for kisses once he was bold enough to ask; a favor for a flavor she called it.  Smiling broadly at the thought of her, his mood lightened as he made his way to the kitchens. 

This early in the morning he found the kitchens completely bustling with activity.  Servants were rushing to and from the great hall for the morning meal and all manner of cooking specialties were on hand to create a culinary ensemble to rival any regency.  Bakers, pastry chefs, and cooks were all managing to work in their areas and somehow manage to not be constantly bumping into one another.  The synergy of the scene was fascinating, until Ser Rylen caught her eye.  Carra eagerly return his gaze with a flashy smile and made her way toward him, she nudged him to a corner where they wouldn’t be in the way of the goings on.  She leaned in close to him as they spoke, their arms brushing lightly as they recounted events that had happened since they were last together.  He smiled at her the entire time without reserve, enjoying the tender company.  The intimacy of the moment was soon broken by a whistle farther into the kitchen followed by some lighthearted jeering.

“Come now, you can’t just keep such things all to yourself!”

“Have you seen him?  I would too.  Two nights in a row, someone is getting bold!”

“I’m surprised Nemira’s not struck blind by the goings on up there!”

Rylen looked quizzically at Carra as the laughter and ribbing continued.  Understanding his confusion she whispered, “That’s Nemira, she takes the Inquisitor her meals to her room at times.  I’m guessing she just came from there.  She and the Commander were seen going to her rooms last night and he never left that anyone saw this morning.”  A broad smile was unabashedly plastered to her face.  “There have been rumors before, but this is a new turn of events…”

He looked over in the direction that Carra had indicated with the inclination of her head.  An older, plump lady had just entered the kitchens.  She had a strong air of competency about her,

It seems that Rylen found himself in a room full of women who were determined to excite their day with the gossip of others.  He exhaled heavily, knowing that it was inappropriate to speak of the Commander in such a way, but the Inquisitor as well?  His brief hesitation to either scold them or just make a quiet retreat was interrupted by Nemira finally conceding, “You lot’ll never give me a moments peace.  Void take you all, I’ll tell ye a bit ifin’ll get you louts back to work.”

The room stilled instantly.  Some were able to continue menial tasks without pulling their eyes from Nemira, obviously giving her their full attention.  Rylen was frozen on the spot. Clearly she had not noticed the soldier’s presence.  He could feel Carra’s giddy excitement as she pressed her shoulder firmly against him and unconsciously began holding his hand, twining their fingers together.  There was no escape now. 

“Alright, sos I makes my way up there as’n the Lady Montilyet asked me to, since her Worship was absent from the Hall this morn.  I knocked as loud as anythin’ and no answer.  Sos I let meself in.  That’s when I found them together.”  Smiles in the audience broadened, all work now came to a complete stop.  Giggles were stifled for fear of missing a single word of what was to come next. 

“They were at her desk.”  Eyes widened, and knowing looks were passed between others. 

“I brought the tray to the desk as she prefers and that’s when I saw it.”  Some began to stand like Carra, shaking with excitement, even hopping lightly at the thought.  “The two of ‘em sitting opposite one ‘nother dead asleepin’ in their chairs.  Not a one of’em had changed since the prior eve.”  The tension in the room began to deflate quickly into disappointment, some looks of confusion.  Nimera’s eyes began to narrow as she scanned to enraptured audience.  “They had been working all night on letters.  Personal letters mind you, from the Inquisitor and the Commander hisself, to the widows and families of those lost at Adamant.”

Carra swiftly turned into his shoulder and shuddering in held back tears, holding him tight, thanking the Maker he stood here now.  He hugged her back, but he couldn’t look away from Nemira, still in shock at the revelation.  _I thought…surely…certainly there are others to handle that…_

The deafening silence was only broken by a few embarrassed coughs.  Nemira let it envelop everyone in a fit of spite.  Once it was almost unbearable she spoke again, “Anyone else’n a wantin’ to know her Worship’s private business?  Dinna think so.” 

Ser Rylen could no longer describe the woman as ‘aged’, she was experienced.  She has known the world and knew that life had precious few moments worth sharing. Some people were able to take advantage of every opportunity to experience the joy of life, while others, like their leaders, sacrificed all for duty.  The burden of responsibility had robbed them of that luxury.  He was finally stirred from his thoughts once Carra stepped back a little to look up at him.  She searched his face for, something, he knew not what.  He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and made his way out of the kitchen, which had geared back up to its original rushed, but structured pace. 

Later that afternoon, as scheduled, the Commander held drills in the training yard.  Ser Rylen wasn’t part of this round and stood amongst the crowd to watch.  Unlike his fellow spectators though, he watched the Commander.  He could now see the want for sleep in his eyes and still managed to push himself to give an air of one ready to take down an archdemon.  Rylen couldn’t help but be in awe of all that the Commander had accomplished, the weight of duty, and the dedication he had selflessly poured into the Inquisition.  Rylen found himself walking to the makeshift chantry.  Kneeling before the symbol of holy Andraste, he contemplated.  _I’m not certain how this works.  Hm, you seemed to have all the answers.  If you did send her to us, I suppose I would like you to know I’m grateful, if that even means anything to a god._

His revere was eventually broken by the sound of armored boots coming down the stone aisle, “I must admit, I’m surprised to find you here.  I had thought that Sera was teasing me with some idiocy that she somehow calls humor.”

Rylen couldn’t help but grin at the idea of Sera taking advantage of the Knight-Commander’s sternness for some off color prank.  It seemed that even with the briefest of introductions Sera would give herself permission to include a person into the folds of her odd tricks.  “We all have our moments, Ser Knight.  Having seen our Herald perform two miracles in one day, I figured I was due to pay some respects at some point.  To what do I owe this pleasure?”  As he turned to face Knight-Commander Barris he realized that he was not in a similar light hearted mood.  His smile dropped from his features quicker than a hot iron in hand.

“The Commander received grave news about an unknown army on the march.  The ranking officers are being called to quietly implement a defensive posture under the guise of an exercise until more is known.”  Barrais was always a bit too stoic for Rylen’s taste but since working with him so closely recently he could tell that this news troubled him.

“Do we have an idea of the size?  Could it be worse than Haven?”  Rylen had dropped his voice and his mind was franticly working through worst case scenarios. 

“I don’t know.  I was there when the Commander read the missive.  He was…unsettled.”

“Alright, let’s get moving.”  Rylen found himself increasing his pace as they made their way to the barracks to reorganize the soldiers and put them to task. 

 

***

 

The soldiers were getting back into their normal routine, but it was still evident that the horrors they had seen and the loss of comrades still weighed heavy on many of them.  They were all strong and it seemed that most used this experience to push themselves further, working toward eliminating those results in future battles.  Cullen respected their resolve and did not let up during practices. 

By midafternoon a messenger rushed to his side, ignoring the fact that he was in the middle of adressing his soldiers.  His irritation at the interruption had him snap at the man in a lowered growl, “This had better be important!”

He read through the note, three times.  No mistake.  An army was marching across Thedas and was no more than a few days away.  The report was confirmed by not only Sister Leliana’s network, but also by King Alastair’s people who sent word that the army had pointedly neglected any Ferelden holdings and was on a straight path for Skyhold.  The force was foreign, marching under an unrecognizable banner.  Cullen wasn’t sure if he was to be thankful that it wasn’t Corypheus’ people or not. 

“Captain Perrin.  Knight-Commander Barris.”  The two officers were at his side instantly.  Cullen lowered his voice without detracting from his commanding tone.  “Dismiss the men.  Collect the ranking officers and begin staging for defensive actions.  Tell everyone it’s an exercise for now, we don’t need panic to spread.  The exact size of the threat is unknown, but let’s assume the worst.”

If either of them had been shocked by the news, they were remarkably good at hiding it.  They saluted and deftly went about executing his orders. 

 

Cullen made his way for the war room, assuming since Leliana had sent the missive that a meeting would be underway.  He found not only the two other advisors, but also Cassandra convened at the war table.  The scene did nothing to ease his nerves, but it did steel his resolve to ensure quick action.  The memories of Haven’s fall were becoming fresher in his mind with each passing moment.  He could have sworn he could smell burning embers stinging his nostrils once again.  _It will not happen again._

The Inquisitor arrived at a brisk pace with Varric close behind.  "My apologies for having made you wait, I thought I would have more time.  They _should_ have given me more time!"

Cassandra was distracted more by Varric’s presense than the Inquisitor’s comments.  “Varric?  What are you doing here?”

“Don’t ask me Seeker, all I know is that Giggles here was racing through the main hall like a nug out of the deep roads and grabbed me in her wake.  There really wasn’t time for explanations.”

Josephine redirected the conversation turning to Decima.  “Then you know about the approaching army?”  She sounded hopeful that the Inquisitor could provide more insight than the brief reports that were sent by raven.

“Yes.”  She scanned the table and saw the scattered markers that Leliana had placed on the map indicating the last known location for the units they had identified.  “They begin a march spread out across the continent like this.  They coordinate a date and time to have all units reconvene together.”  She used both hands to sweep across the map and move all of the markers just south of Orzammar.  “The rendezvous point will be a few short days from the intended target.  This method not only hides the intent of the forces for as long as possible but also disguises its numbers until the last minute.”

“Do you know how large the force is?” Cullen kept his voice even, trying to mask his marvel at the impressive capability to have that many units working synergistically so flawlessly. 

“I have not seen the new reports, but what is out there now is one-for-one compared to our pre-Adamant numbers, all experienced vetrans."

The tension was palpable.  The conversations in the war room had never been carried on so rapidly.  There was a rushed urgency that had replaced the cold calculated discussions Cullen had grown accustomed to.  It was bad enough to have to worry about Corypheus’ forces, but to add into the mix a foreign army on the march, especially one so massive; it was too soon, even with their defensive advantage. 

Leliana pulled out a missive, “Alright, then we have three days…” 

Decima swiftly cut her off.  “They will reach Skyhold tomorrow evening.  Your information is out of date and they move faster than you are accustomed to.”

Varric interrupted, clearly on edge and uncomfortable.  “Giggles, I have to admit that this is my first meeting in the war room but, it is definitely freaking me out a little how you seem to know more than our spymaster.”

“I know their tactics because it is my army.  I know where they are because of this.”  Her eyes glazed over in a white smoke briefly and Cullen felt the lyrium within her surge and call out.  Cassandra drew her sword and rushed to the other side of the table.

“What is that!?  What are you doing?”  Cassandra demanded.

"You can hear it, can't you?  But…you already knew.”  It wasn’t much of a question, she was stating a fact.

Leliana spoke up, “Dorian sensed it first at Adamant.” 

“And there was second?”

Cullen stepped forward to stand beside Cassandra.  In his anxiety he tightened his grip on the pommel of his sheathed sword.  “I sensed it the night before last.”

“The connection requires a particular proximity.  You only feel it now because the Matron Empress is so close.  It’s a binding spell that connects me to the Matron Empress so that she may direct me to execute her will through her army.  When you felt it the other night, that was when she was close enough to contact me.  I can’t feel it the way you seem to, I can only tell when she speaks to me.  She waited until this morning to inform me of recent events which, as I said earlier, did not give me enough time.”

Cassandra fixed her with a steel gaze.  “You are vulnerable to corruption.  I cannot allow you to continue to roam free.  Submit, I…I don’t want to force you…”  Every knew that she was implying there was a possibility of executing the Inquisitor, Cassandra’s voice faltered.  Things were moving too fast, Cullen needed time to think, to come up with a plan.  _This was madness!_

“Easy Seeker, I don’t think we’re talking about abominations are we?  It’s just a method of communication right?”  Varric, the constant voice of reason tried to ease the tension in the room.  Cassandra let her sword drop to her side.

Decima responded in an accusatory tone.  "You would turn your blade against me?  If it were for the good of the Inquisition, would you place your duty to the cause above your Herald?"

Cullen answered for them all as he drew his sword on her and advanced to within striking range.  "Yes."

Cullen was thankful for his ever present gloves.  His hands were thick with sweat and although he knew his actions were righteous, his insides were burning.  He stared at her hoping she could read his heart in his eyes.  He pleaded to the Maker to change things, make it as it was.

"Good.  Remember those words so you may understand why I do what I must in the name of duty.  I wish it could be different Cullen, but I have responsibilities and it is too late now."  Detached, distant.  He could no longer recognize the woman before him.  His eyes pleaded, his body tensed to strike, and the conflict was ripping him to shreds. 

The door opened behind Decima and a messenger appeared, “Forgive the intrusion, Inquisitor, I have the man that you said would be arriving today.”

Decima did not break her stare from Cullen.  “Show him in.”

The man who entered was undoubtedly one of Decima's countrymen.  His naturally bronze skin had been further darkened by years in the sun.  He wore a loose, royal blue undershirt that matched his billowy trousers.  The fabric was bloused at the wrists and ankles by thick black leather cuffs.   The cloth itself was thin, reminiscent of what Cullen had seen Bull wear out of habit due to hailing from a much warmer climate.  A sleeveless soft leather coat that had been dyed midnight black was worn on the outside and flowed down to the man’s knees, similar to some of the robes Dorian preferred, but like the blue cloth, plain.  The only adornment was a gold circular pin which held a light blue sash to his right shoulder that dipped down to his left hip, then continued the loop up his back.  There was a finely detailed crest etched into the gold, but too intricate to discern any details from a distance.  Anyone would have labeled the man intimidating. 

The stance he chose betrayed his military affiliation and his broad muscles labeled him as a warrior.  He was bald with age.  His beard was grey with only a few flecks of black that betrayed the original color and its shape nearly identical to Blackwall's with the exception that the bottom had been rounded off.  He could easily pass as old enough to be Decima's father but his health indicated that he would present a challenge to any man half his age in the ring.  

The warrior took stock of the whole room, not just focusing on Cullen and his threatening posture.  His attitude and actions were best characterized as ‘deliberate’ as it was obvious he was not one to rush to conclusions about a situation.  He addressed the Inquisitor, "General, do you need assistance?"

"No, I'm fine Commander.”   Decima still did not move from her spot which was within Cullen’s arm swing. 

The Osai Commander then turned his attention to Cullen.  In a tone of threatening confidence that an unarmed man shouldn’t be able to conjure, he challenged Cullen.  “Tell me _boy,_ are you prepared to start a war today by striking down the only sister to the Matron Empress?”

“Andraste’s tits!  You’re royalty?!”  Varric couldn’t hold back his astonishment and was apparently the only one in the group who was able to voice what they all were thinking. 

Cullen could recall every training session he had when learning to be a Templar.  There wasn’t a day in his life since joining the Templars that he had not sparred someone.  He had lost many of those fights, true, but he had never lost control of his weapon - not once.  In this moment he found himself unprepared and shocked to the core, for the first time in Cullen’s life he dropped his sword.  It clattered to the ground, the sound echoing off the walls.  Cullen’s mouth went dry, his heart had stopped.  _How could she do this?  This can’t be true, this is impossible!_

Decima stepped back to stand beside **her** Commander.  “Commander Baladin, I submit to you the leaders if the Inquisition for judgment for crimes against the nation of Bosquel and the Matron Empress herself."

Again, Varric voiced what all were thinking, “Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Trivia: The portion from Ser Rylen's POV was the first segment that I wrote for this story line. 
> 
> My sincerest thanks for following along and I hope that it stays fun and exciting.


	15. Accusations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayal cuts deep, but false accusations cut deeper.

The tavern had been cleared out earlier, even Cabot was absent.  A thick unease had settled over Skyhold in the few short hours since the messenger had arrived on behalf of the Osai Empress.  Varric was already seated at one of the larger tables.  Sera was the last to arrive, leaping down from the second story balcony.  She skipped over to the unattended bar and helped herself to a random bottle that she brought to the table.  She leaned back in her chair to prop her feet up on the table.

“So, you’re going to let us know what happened with Quizzy, yeah?  You wouldn’t believe what some of the littl’ folk are already saying about the castle.  Miss Ladybits is all high-an-mighty.  Well, more sos now.”  Sera took a quick pull from the bottle, plainly having no intention to share. 

Varric looked around the table, and took a steading breath.  “You’ve got that part right.  Turns out that this entire time her Inquisitorialness is third in line for running the show back home.”

“Maker’s balls.”  Blackwall drew a deep breath.  “What does this mean for the Inquisition?  Are her people here to take her back?”

“It seems that they sent an awful lot of people to drag back one person, even if she was kicking and screaming it shouldn’t take an entire army.”  Dorian let go of his usual flippancy for a more somber attitude considering the seriousness of the situation.

“They can’t have   Quizzy, the sky is still broken and we need the glow!  We need to put things back the way they were!”  Sera tilted forward to have the chair back on all fours and dropped her feet on the floor for emphasis.

“They didn’t come to get her back.  They came to punish the Inquisition for taking her from them.  They pressed charges against her charming advisors that called for their immediate execution and for the Inquisition army to be disbanded, by force if necessary.”

“What the shite!?  They can’t march up here…”  Sera was already bounding up from her seat.

Varric stopped her by pulling her back down into the chair.  “They can and they have.  The army will be here this time tomorrow.”

“Varric, you said that they wanted to punish the Inquisition.  Don’t they know she stayed of her own free will?  No one forced her to stay.”  Blackwall didn’t bother to try and hide his concern. 

Varric hung his head and shook it slightly.  “Her working for the Inquisition is seen as a betrayl.  In their view, no one would choose to be a traitor so it must be due to the influence or coercion of someone else.  These Osai are as fucked up as the Qunari when it comes to following the law.”

Sera snorted loudly, “Yea, no shite.  Who marches an army for one pettily little fancy-breeches?”

“They do, especially when it involves someone who is able to control an entire army with a thought.”  This comment captured everyone’s attention. 

Solas was less than amused and reacted incredulously.  “That hardly seems possible.  No one, especially a non-mage, could be bound to that many people.”

“It’s not every individual, but all the main Commanders.  The bulk of the force is two days shy of Skyhold and she can speak to them.”  Varric leaned back in his chair to allow them a moment to digest the implications of such a feat. 

Cole absentmindedly began talking, “The voices have returned/blending, weaving over each other/feels like home/voices are angry, disappointed, traitor/not like home/a twisted nightmare/where is the quiet?”

“Not helping Creepy…” Sera stated in a warning to Cole to stop his rambling.

Dorian interjected, “Varric, why don’t you at least  _pretend_  to be a decent storyteller and start at the beginning?  I would really like to know what led up to me having to be dragged into the war room by that brutish man.” 

“Well, like any sort of news, I have the good kind and the bad kind.  So first, the good kind…

*** 

There we all were, stunned as the Inquisitor, our Herald of Andraste, completely abandons all sense and proclaims that she is presenting those of us gathered as the leaders of the Inquisition who need to have charges brought against them for espionage.  The Seeker was of course the perfect picture of composure and diplomacy.

“This is bullshit! You have no authority here.  I will see to it that the two of you are incarcerated for this!”

“Do you really think that I would be sent if I weren’t expendable?  Do with me as you like.  I was only sent ahead to provide you the opportunity to address the charges before the council passes final judgment.”

Fortunately Ruffles pipes up before the Seeker could dig us into a deeper grave.  “Could you please enlighten us as to what the specific charges are Commander?”

“Of course Ambassador Montilyet.  The charges are: imprisonment of the General of the Empire’s army, malicious coercion, corruption of the ranks, threatening a member of the royal family, and conspiracy to abuse the General’s power.”

I could see that the Ambassador processed each charge that was laid out but couldn’t help but comment on the one thing that didn’t fit.  “How do you know my name?”

“He knows because I told him, just now.  It is why these charges are so serious, why I am considered such a risk to lose control over.”  Giggles then taps at her temple with a finger.  "All it would take is a brief moment and he, or any of the other Commanders, would know everything that I know; the patrols, castle layout, vulnerabilities - everything."

I shit you not, as graceful as a halla, Nightingale leaps over the table, blades drawn, ready to pounce on our dear Inquisitor.  You know that she is not shy about any dirty task and this was no exception.  She was absolutely going to fucking kill Giggles right there in front of everyone.  Lucky for her, that Commander Baladin was between the two of them in an instant.  He grabbed the blades bare handed and twisted with such quick ferocity that they came loose out of Nightingale’s hands, then kicked her squarely in the stomach.  Nightingale doubled over on to the ground defenseless, gasping as each breath was hard earned.  He then stepped forward and deftly pulled her arms behind her and while holding them straight, pressing them up near her head while he immobilized her lower body with a knee in the center of her back.  When he applied his weight to her spine, you could see how it pressed her enraged face into the cold stone.  This was obviously not the first time that he has had to manhandle someone, shit, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bastard tortured people with his breakfast. 

This man had no shame either.  He even continued to goad her.  "Don't fight me or I will make this worse for you."

Our tenacious spymaster gave one last ditch effort to wrench herself free.  It failed.  Baladin pushed her straightened arms further  up toward her head until the sound came.  A sickening ‘pop-pop’ had Ruffles on the verge of retching as she braced herself on my shoulder to keep from swooning.  I gotta hand it to Nightingale though, she gritted her teeth, not allowing Baladin the satisfaction of hearing her scream in pain.  Since they had been removed from joint, he dropped her useless arms to the ground.  He maintained the knee in her back and picked up one of the discarded blades.  The sick bastard placed the tip in the nape of her neck and twirled it like a child’s top, drawing a slow ooze of blood. His own hands he ignored as his blood flowed freely, adding to the freakish scene.

He grinned back at us sardonically, "Anyone else wish to attempt something foolish?"

Baladin wasn’t really subduing a threat, he was making a statement.  Seeker and Curly read it loud and clear and even took a step back from him, not wanting to antagonize him into doing further harm. 

Baladin eased his stance a bit to better address the room.  “As you have been able to deduce, having the General compromised is extremely dangerous.  That is why these charges cannot go unanswered, even if Itsasne managed some noble deeds on your behalf.”

The Seeker, being the ballsy sort she is, sneered at him, “Who this is Itsasne?  Some other spy you have let slither into our midst?”

But it was Curly, poor angry Curly, who really punctuated the sense of betrayal.  “Is that your real name Decima?  Did you even once care for what the Inquisition could do for the people of Thedas or were you constantly preoccupied with how you could wedge your way onto our continent, handing Thedas over on a silver platter?”  You could hear the pain in each accusation he spit in her face.  “Vile wretch!  How are you any better than Samson?  Just another conqueror, another oppressor.  How long have you laughed at our naivety from behind your mask of the caring, dutiful leader.  At least now we know where that call to duty lies.”

If there was a book on insults, I’m certain he would have made her eat it.  I have to give the Inquisitor credit.  She took every word without giving any defense for her actions.  We all knew that she had been aware of what she was doing, that  **this**  was the result she had been working towards. 

Baladin stood and backed away from Nightingale who remained still on the floor.  I didn’t blame her, I can only imagine how much that shit had to hurt.   Baladin stared down Ruffles, “Is this true Ambassador?  No one here knew who she was?  She never spoke of her family, her military service?  Nothing?”

“I can assure you Commander, we only had speculation until this moment.  We trusted the name she provided and when her deeds in support of the Inquisition became too numerous to count, we cared less and less about learning her past.”  I noticed a little spark in Ruffles eyes.  She had worked too often on the intricacies of word-smithing, played the game too much to not realize what was beginning to unfold.

That’s when Baladin turned to face the Inquisitor, “Oh, Itsasne…what have you done?”  He caressed her cheek and she held it in return.

“Please, have the council pass judgment.  I want this done with.”  This was the first time that I could see her beginning to break.  She was doing a damn good job of holding up, but the pity, she couldn’t handle being pitied.   Baladin did that creepy eye shit that let us know he was speaking to some far off council, or Empress, or however the fuck that works.  It wasn’t long before he announced, “Due to the testimony presented, it is clear that no intentional actions were taken against Bosquel or the Matron Empress.  All charges against the Inquisition and its people, have been dropped.”  He turned to Curly and for the first time in a softer tone addressed him, “Commander Rutherford, my army has stood down.  There will be no fighting instigated by our forces.  We regret the inconvenience and insult that has been caused this day.”

At his words the Inquisitor relaxed, nearly melting to the floor.  She barked at Baladin, “Go get a healer, now!”  The man was off like a shot, Decima’s eyes smoked over letting us know that she was guiding him through the castle.  Even while doing that, she looked us over and pressed her back against the wall.  She closed her eyes as she let her head drop back against the hard surface. 

“I am so sorry, but I had to protect you.  Maker forgive me, I couldn't let there be a war.”

*** 

“That’s when you showed up Sparkler, to get our spymaster back on her feet.  I stayed a bit longer than you to regale the Osai Commander with the tale of the Breach and then left shortly afterward.”

Blackwall grunted in frustration before mumbling under his breath.  “Damn nobles and their ridiculous constructs.”

Dorian threw twenty royals on the table in Varric’s direction.  “Alright Varric, I believe this settles the ‘something weirder than the archdemon’ bet.”  He then looked longingly at the hearty sum spread on the table.  “How about double or nothing?”

“Time limit?”  Varric quirked up one eyebrow thoughtfully.

“Ha!  The way this is going, I’d give it two days!” 

“Varric.”  Solas’ even tone broke the jovial banter.  “You said you had some bad news as well.  What is the bad news?”

“Oh, well, it seems that there is no such thing as bad luck or an innocent bystander in Bosquel.  They needed someone to blame and they turned on the Inquisitor, their own fucking heiress to the throne!  It was her silence that kept the Inquisition as clean as a baby nug’s bum when it came to placing blame.  She pled guilty to the charges of being a traitor, compromising the safety of the Empress, and overall abandoning her responsibilities.  They have called for her execution the morning following their damn Empress’ arrival.”

Solas let his fury show as he stood, bracing himself on the table.  “And what are the advisors doing to have the charges dropped?!”

Varric walked over to Sera, took her bottle and finished it off in one go.  “That’s the kicker Chuckles, so far the Inquisition has decided to do nothing.”

 ***

 Cullen paced the ambassador’s office.  His mind was a complete mess following the meeting in the war room.   _Of all the times to be impulsive, to lose control…of course, of course it just had to be then!_ He could still feel the helpless sting of each time she answered a charge,  _I plead guilty_.  She had done better than he in controlling her emotions.  When Commander Baladin relayed the judgment of execution Cullen found that he wasn’t the only one who called out in protest.

She had known all along what would happen if they had come for her.  She stayed silent to protect him, no, to protect them all.  Cullen couldn’t begin to pretend that she would care for him in the slightest after how he had abused her. 

 _I plead guilty – fuck!_ How could he be so impulsive?  He looked over towards the desk as Josephine and Leliana poured over the documents that Baladin had brought with him.  “Please tell me you have found something, there must be some way out of this.”

“The past few minutes has hardly made me an expert in Osai law Commander.”  Josephine still continued to stare down at the papers.  She riffled through a few more before continuing.  “We are at least fortunate that Varric was eloquent enough to recount the tale of the Herald’s beginning with the Inquisition.  Her direct involvement resulted in ‘good order and discipline’ which the Osai so admire that at least granted her a public beating as opposed to an execution.”

Thank the Maker for Varric.  Wait, no, again this was Decima…or Itsasne’s plan.  She was the one who brought him knowing he would be the best to represent her.  It was the same with the invitation extended to Cassandra.  The Seeker’s automatic fervent defensiveness further attested to the innocence of the Inquisition.  When Baladin mentioned that she needed to be placed under guard, Itsasne conveniently knew of some mercenaries who, for the right amount of coin, would be glad keep tabs on her until the Empress’ arrival.  It was all planned.  Cullen began to feel himself sicken at his lack of trust, how his bitterness at betrayal had swiftly turned its focus from her and on to himself instead.

Leliana set her papers down.  “Commander, you have to consider that her punishment might well be in the best interest of the Inquisition.  According to Baladin, this will make her ‘dead’ in the eyes of the Empress which cuts her ties to the Imperial family.  This would prevent us from alienating any allies, since they might turn hostile against an Inquisition headed by a foreign royal.”

“I failed her.  Now, we’re considering offering her up to take on the burden that the Inquisition cannot?  How many sacrifices are to be made, is there no end?”

The room grew quiet when the door to the great hall opened.  It was only Cassandra and the Iron Bull.  Judging by the grim look on Bull’s face, he knew why he was being summoned.  Cassandra escorted Bull to the war room, to meet his ‘new’ employer. 

Once the pair had disappeared into the war room, Leliana finally answered, “We all must do what is best for the Inquisition.”  Cullen moved as though to begin to argue against her point, she interrupted him.  “Cullen, I understand your frustration with what has happened.  You are not the only one who has failed her trust.  I strongly recommend that you take some time to think things through.  The last thing you should be doing is making another rash decision.”

The words cut into him like a serrated knife, tugging and ripping at him.  He closed his eyes to take a calming breath.  The door to the war room opened again to have Cassandra exit with Bull and the Inquisitor following close behind.  Cassandra continued on her way, but Deci – Itsanse, walked up to Leliana.  “I am sorry my brother attacked you.  I hope you can forgive me, I did not mean for things to get so out of hand.”  She bowed her head shaking it.  “They should have given me more time.” 

“We were the ones who behaved irrationally."  Leliana flicked her eyes to Cullen, but Itsasne did not follow them.  Leliana drew he eyes back and gave her a warm smile which had Itsasne lunge forward to hug the spymaster tightly as it repaired the broken bond.  Pulling back, Itsasne reached a hand out to Josephine who also responded with a friendly embrace. 

Josephine clasped Itsasne's hands in reassurance.  "Don't worry Inquisitor, we will find a way out of this for you." 

"It's not worth the effort.  I accepted this fate when I decided to stay in Haven.  It just happened sooner than I hoped."

Cullen recalled their conversation from weeks ago,  _I have no obligations that call for me – well, aside from one minor one. But I plan on taking care of that after my duties to the Inquisition. I have fully committed myself to this cause and I swear I will not falter._   It was apparent that failure was never a consideration. 

“Josephine, if you need me for anything, I will be in my room.”

“Yes Inquisitor.”

Cullen watched her go with Bull in tow.  He willed her to look at him.  He prayed that the Maker would turn her gaze…but she did not.  His heart sank to unknown depths at the slight, one he knew he deserved.  Leliana was right, he needed some distance from this.

The last to leave was Baladin.  He made no effort to follow the Inquisitor and actually stood in front of Cullen and waited.  When Cullen stayed mute he prompted the conversation, “Commander Rutherford, I would not be offended if you felt the need to have me confined to quarters or at least placed under guard for the time being.”

Cullen rudely turned from the man and walked toward Josephine and Leliana, passing them a look to let them know, he did not care and left the decision up to them.

“I do not believe such measures are necessary Commander Baladin, as you are a brother to the Inquisitor, consider yourself a guest.” Josephine responded flawlessly and with such grace that one would not have believed she had recently witnessed this man cripple one of her closest friends in a matter of seconds.

Baladin bowed, “Thank you ambassador.”  He gave one final look at Cullen,  _was the man smirking at him?_  He left the room leisurely as a man with no further purpose for the day. 

Leliana rose, “I will ensure that someone keeps an eye on him at all times.”  She then turned to Cullen.  “Commander, it’s getting late, you need to inform the troops about today’s developments before we have to receive the Osai Empress tomorrow.”

 

 Baladin wondered outside into the drawing darkness of the night.  He tapped into his lyrium to reach out, “Empress, I believe that I may have found a way to solve one of our problems.”

_I’m listening._

“His name is Commander Cullen Rutherford.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started working on multiple chapters at once so please keep an eye out for the tags changing.


	16. An Indecent Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Commander comes to the conclusion that when things involve affairs of the heart, he shouldn't over think the repercussions.

Itzal Baladin had spent a few hours wandering the battlements, mulling over his next course of action.  He had kept his movements to one side of the castle to allow him the chance to ferret out who had been assigned to follow him.  He’d already identified three of them.  He was thankful that these children playing war with his sister weren't entirely stupid, if somewhat clumsy in their methods.  

He glanced back at the tower that he had identified as Commander Rutherford's office.  The Commander had been in there with a handful of his officers for nearly an hour now.  It was getting late to the point he could count the hours until the Matron Empress arrived.  He walked to the building, knowing he needed to act soon to ensure his plans bore fruit.  When he was only a few feet from the office door it opened abruptly.  Four officers filed out, one so young he couldn't be but days from his mother's skirts.  He kept his first impressions to himself by maintaining a neutral expression.  The officers had no such restraint.  They openly displayed their hatred.  One of them threw him a murderous glare that challenged Baladin to give the man an excuse to fight. Baladin graced them with a smile that they undoubtedly took as mocking.  Instead it came from the thought of Itsasne, and how proud he was that her deeds had garnered such loyalty.  It pained him to know he would never be permitted to have a similar feeling for her again.

Once the doorway was empty, he let himself in.  He found the Commander behind his desk looking out the thin window.  The stress of the day evident as he rubbed at a stiffness in his neck.  Baladin left him to his musings as he quietly took stock of the room.  It was serviceable and devoid of any empty tokens proclaiming the accomplishments of the owner.  Baladin was beginning to warm up even more to this Commander.  It was evident that he poured all of his energy into his work.  It seems that Itsasne had not exaggerated her praise for him.  He took one more step into the office and was jabbed in the hip by the hilt of a sword, his own momentum driving it painfully into his flesh.  His surprised gasp had Cullen turn toward the noise.  Baladin only briefly caught the Commander's smirk since his attention was drawn to see how he had managed to miss the protruding object.  The massive sword had been swung with great effort, slicing into the nearby bookshelf, cutting into a row of tomes and had become lodged in the wood before it could completely divide the piece of furniture in half.  

_Impressive_

“Commander, I had hoped you had some time to discuss the bed down of my soldiers.”  He chose to not comment on the display of anger fueled by the Commander's unguarded emotions.  This at least gave him hope that Cullen’s raw nerves would make the boy easier to ply to the Empress’ will. 

"Of course."  Baladin noted the forced politeness.  He knew he'd have to tread lightly, ease into the conversation if he was going to get anywhere with this man.  

Cullen produced a map and pointed out a valley two miles from Skyhold.  "Judging by the reports of the size of your forces, this is the best location."

A brief survey proved him correct - access to water, near the main route of travel, and distant enough from inquisition forces to prevent unintentional provocation, but well within the range of the inquisition's trebuchets which had been repositioned since Baladin's arrival...  

_Prudent_

"Yes, this will work well.  Thank you Cullen."

"Commander."  He was sternly corrected.

"Yes, apologies."  _I don't need you to like me, I just need you to listen._  "I spent some time with Itsasne earlier and that is how she referred to you all afternoon.  I believe it became stuck in my head.”

A quick shift in weight let him know that Cullen wanted to pour into questions about her.  Baladin recognized that despite the outburst earlier, the Commander still cared deeply for his Inquisitor, especially after the realization that she was sacrificing herself to preserve them.

_There’s one thing in my favor_

Baladin smiled inwardly, "She holds you in high esteem.  I'm curious Commander, she said that you two had been involved, is this true?" Cullen was visibly uncomfortable with the conversation.  

Cullen attempted to dismiss him.  "It's late, I'm certain after your hard ride today you would like to retire your quarters."

"She told me some of your history.  You are quite distinguished, impressively dutiful and honorable.  Why would you waste your time with her?”

“You find my lack of lineage beneath the notice of royalty?”  The Commander tossed the fact out which identified it as a constant irritant for the man. 

“No, I think that a disgraced general is beneath _your_ notice.  You could easily do much better.  Honestly, put yourself in her place.  Who would want to bind themselves to a confessed traitor?"

With that, the Commander had charged, forcing Baladin into the wall.  Cullen had removed one of Baladin’s hidden daggers and struck it into the stone beside his neck.  He hissed at Baladin.  “Have a care how you speak of the Inquisitor.  Brother or no, I will not tolerate such insults.  There is no one better than her.”

 “So, you **are** the one to whom she has promised herself."  Baladin remarked, forcing surprise into his voice.

"Promised?"  Cullen’s confusion had him step back, giving the two men some space.

"Yes," Baladin pushed up the sleeve on his left arm to show a similar leather band that the Inquisitor wore. His was soft from years of wear.  "These signify being bound to another, placed on the heart’s pulse.  The band is the promise," He then pointed out the red thread that was woven around the edge.  "this is the final binding that represents a life commitment.  How is it done here, to signify a life bond?"

He noticed the Commander’s eyes dart toward the desk, then back to him.  "There is an exchange of rings and the blessing of the chantry to have the union made official."

Baladin nodded in agreement, "Yes, we also have a final requirement that is necessary to have the union recognized within the empire."

He stared at the desk for a moment, wondering if there was a ring in there meant for the Inquisitor.  Judging by the tone Cullen had used, he had not only thought about such a union, but desired it.  He heard the Commander swallow hard.  "What does it mean when only one of the couple wears one?"

"You mean the way Itsasne does?  That she has promised herself to you but has not offered you the same chance.  It is probably because she rightfully doesn't see herself as worthy of you.”   

The Commander was becoming agitated.  Baladin needed him to be reckless, to act.  “I have no land or title outside the Inquisition and I have insulted her horribly to her face.  How can you claim our positions reversed?”

“Title and land are nothing if the person cannot earn respect.  Any idiot can carry a name and own land.  A man’s reputation is more than lineage, it is about dedication to service above all else.”  Baladin paused to give Cullen a thoughtful look.  “I suppose that our cultures differ in this regard.  However, that does not change the way she concerns herself about you.  She asked me to find out, if you would ever forgive her actions that led to the unpleasantness that passed today?”

Baladin stared the Commander down as he spoke, watching every twitch of muscle, looking for any sign that he was planting the right seeds, encouraging the right thoughts.  Cullen cursed under his breath then brushed past him, heading for the main castle.  "Commander!  Where are you going?"

He turned his head over his shoulder briefly, “To do something I should have done a long time ago.”

Baladin leaned a shoulder against the doorframe to watch Cullen hurry off on his mission.  _Good, run.  You have only a few hours left._

***

 

Cullen felt some pang of guilt at having dragged Dagna out of bed in the middle of the night for his own selfish ends.  He paced his office in the early hours of the morning, having passed another night sleepless, but for once, it was for a pleasant reason.  His hands were possessed by a familiar shaking, only this time it was not a craving for lyrium that controlled them.  He took deep breaths, working his resolve through his body.  _I am done.  I am done overthinking.  I am done second guessing._

These words were in direct conflict with how his mind raced at the possible outcomes of his decision.  The first hints of sunlight were peeking through the window.  The Inquisitor would be on her way to the barracks and training field.  He and the advisors had all agreed that she should make a public appearance to reassure the people that she was willfully accepting the coming punishment for the good of the Inquisition, that there was nothing to fear.  Cullen’s chest seized at the idea of making public such a private moment for the two of them, but he felt it was necessary to demonstrate his remorse of his scathing words and to also stress the sincerity of his declarations.  He took a few more steading breaths; then headed for the barracks. 

Cullen had practiced his words repeatedly in his mind to the point he found himself at the barracks without being able to remember his journey there.  There were people everywhere, some working, most milling about due to the early hour of the day.  He found her easily since Bull had been assigned to stay by her side.  He clutched at the ribbon in his hands and briefly admired the paralyzing effect that she had on him.  Cullen had faced every horror that was known to man unflinchingly, and yet this woman made his heart skip in his chest. 

“Inquisitor!”  She turned and smiled at him when she found him in the crowd.  “I need to apologize for my behavior yesterday, it was unworthy of me.”  Cullen began to feel his throat thicken, his nerves attempting to ruin everything.

“It is no worry at all, I understand.”  She managed to smile brighter at him, accepting his apology. 

“I came to tell you, well to ask you…”  He instantly began to fumble with his words and he had only just started.  “Maker’s breath – Can I try this again?” 

She nodded as she giggled lightly.  She was not mocking him, but in her own way, giving him reassurance.  

“You have taught me happiness.  You have shown me true strength and compassion.  I will never deserve you, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying.”  He had kept it short, not trusting himself to say much more.  He hesitated, unsure how he should present himself and then resolved to go with what he knew.  He bent to one knee to kneel before her, taking hold of her left hand.  “Will you be my wife?”

Cullen will remember the stillness, the silence of that moment for the rest of his life.  There were no longer conversations around them, all sword play had ceased, if it were possible he would have sworn the world had come to a stop as he knelt, and waited. 

She began to pull her hand back from his hold.  Fear and panic swept over him until he felt her fingers clasp his hand and her motion encouraged him to stand.  He forced a smile, still unsure what would happen next.  A massive roar erupted from the soldiers when she leapt up into his arms, kissing him with utter abandon.  He returned each kiss with equal fervor, the cheers and whistles echoing how Cullen felt in the moment, how he knew he would feel everyday waking next to this amazing woman. 

A few eager souls approached them to offer congratulations and handshakes.  Cullen eased her down and not wanting to forget, he took her hand in his and slipped the red ribbon over it.  He tightened it and looked up to find horror written on her face.  He followed her eyes to see that Baladin had arrived with five other men.  They all shared similar features and Cullen could only assume that they were more of her brothers.  The group closed in on them, the crowd making way.  They each had varying expressions and left Cullen at a loss as to how they felt about his actions toward their sister.  He felt himself become possessive, daring one of them to try and deny his happiness.

The youngest spoke first, “Itsasne, my I offer my sincerest blessings.”  He looked to Cullen’s naked wrist.  “Um, assuming of course that he accepts you…”

“What are all of you doing here?” She was quite in shock at their presence. 

“We came ahead of the main forces to see you.  What are you doing getting married with no notice given to us?  It's fortunate we happened by."

Cullen searched Itsasne's face for answers.   She rightly guessed his question.  "Beloved, I know what you meant to do, but the way you did it actually made it a wedding rite, not a proposal."

Baladin decided to offer some helpful advice.  "But the Commander has not accepted his half.  It is still possible to back out if he wishes." 

Cullen was irritated at the thought.  He did not trust Baladin’s friendly advice and he placed and arm around her waist.  "No, I have no intention of backing out."

The Inquisitor turned into his half embrace, bringing them closer.  "Cullen, what he means is that you have the chance before you have to follow through and complete the ritual." 

"What else is there to be done?"

"The marriage has to be consummated."  She closed her eyes and winced as she finished.  "In front of a witness."

 _They cannot be serious!_  Cullen watched the five new brothers react with similar 'that's the way it is' expressions.  When he caught Baladin's attention, Baladin shook his head with haughty grin  - _I knew you wouldn't have the stomach to follow through._

Whether the comment had been imagined or not, Cullen had come too far to be denied now.  He had managed to botch a public proposal, surely he could manage the last bit in semi-private. He offered Itsasne his left wrist.  "Will you take me for your husband?"

She warmed against him, pressing every inch of her body to his to claim a kiss.  When she broke the kiss, she eagerly tied the second ribbon to him while gazing into his eyes with pure desire.  If her brothers noticed, neither of them cared.  She pulled him into a hug so that she could kiss him once again.  She kissed his cheek, his neck then spoke to him in a lustful, breathy voice. "I have some obligations to see to.  Meet me in my - our room in three hours?" _Yes, yes I will do whatever you ask of me…my wife._

"Since I am already paying a king’s ransom for his men's services, I choose The Iron Bull to be the witness."  Baladin rose his voice to intrude on the intimate moment.

Cullen tried to hide his flinch at the announcement.   _Oh Maker, this is really happening isn't it?_   The Inquisitor strode off to her next obligation, Bull clapped Cullen on the back before following her.  "Good job Cullen, never a dull moment."

Cullen lost sight of the brothers as he became swarmed by well-wishers, all still believing it had only been an engagement.  


  
The brothers had removed themselves from the crowd and found a quiet area back inside the main walls of Skyhold.  Their voices ran over each other in a banter they had grown used to over the years.

“Damn Itzal, that was too close!”  

“What if he had refused?”

“I would have found a way to threaten him.”

“At least he's handsome, that's always nice.”

“He won’t do well when she has to go through the stripping tomorrow.”

“None of us will do well.”

They all cringed to some degree.  At Itsasne’s insistence, they had kept the details of the punishment quiet.  She emphasized that these people wouldn’t understand and that it was easiest to wait until nothing could be done to change it.  A familiar feminine voice edged into their minds.

 _Is it done?_  
  
As the eldest, Baladin answered.  “I swear it will be done before your arrival.”    
  
_And you were certain to get a witness?_  
  
“Yes Empress.”  
  
_I don't want there to be any question, no loophole that would threaten the legitimacy of this union._  
  
“There won't be Empress”  
  
_Excellent.  I want to see to it that the son of a bitch pays for what he's done._  
  
Angered determination crossed over all the brothers, “We will all see to that.”

***

Cullen had tried his best to stay busy for the longest three hours of his life.  He avoided Josephine as best he could, knowing full well that as soon as she heard what he had done, he would be in for a painful scolding at not having consulted her. 

Now as the time had run out, it seemed that time was passing too quickly.  He reached to top of the stairs that led to the Inquisitor’s chambers, now their chambers.  Everything had happened so fast he couldn’t believe that they were wed.  The chantry wouldn’t recognize it, but then again the chantry still branded them all heretics, so that wasn’t a great loss at the moment.  He thought about knocking, then decided against the silliness of it. 

He began up the final set of stairs within the room when he heard the Inquisitor and Bull carrying on a conversation.  Intrigued at what they would talk about alone, he took up a hiding spot on the stairs, looking through the railing into the room.

“Hold on, you’re billing both my brother and Josephine at the same time?  I don’t know if that’s unscrupulous or genius.”  Itsasne laughed unreservedly.  Cullen was certain she hadn’t done so since the first news of her family’s arrival. 

The Inquisitor laid in a bath tub at the center of the room.  Her left side faced the bed which Bull lounged on.  It was the only price of furniture that could accommodate his height.  His hands were behind his head which was oriented at the foot of the bed so that he wasn't watching her bathe.  They were close enough that had she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him.  It dawned on Cullen that they had probably seen each other naked before.  They shared close quarters on the road much like he had when he was a Templar at the Circle.  They were so comfortable together, comrades in arms, friends.  Cullen thanked the Maker that Baladin had chosen Bull.  The experienced Qunari would probably be the most comfortable with the whole situation among the three of them.  

He took another step which had caused enough movement that Bull turned to him.  The Qunari instantly relaxed back down on the bed once he recognized Cullen, then sent him a mischievous smile.

“So, tell me boss.  Does this whole set up bother you?”  Damn, as she had said, Bull was a genius.  He was feeling her out to make sure she and Cullen were more relaxed about finalizing their wedding rite.

“No, not really.  It’s normal back home so it’s expected, but I know that Cullen may be a bit apprehensive.  You wouldn’t believe how turned on I was when he declared himself so publicly.  Knowing that everyone watched him claim me for his own…just _oh_ \- It was perfect.  I wouldn’t change a thing.”  She played with the water a little more.  “Does it bother you?”

“Ha, nah.  I’ve seen, no, I’ve done more risqué things before.  I only hope that you two are able to enjoy yourselves.  That’s all sex should really be about any way.  What is it about him excites you the most?”

 “Back home men in service are the most desired, I suppose we’re brought up to place them in high regard.  I never had many options for a love match growing up, all the high ranking officers around me were my brothers.  The other day when Cullen pulled out his sword, he was ready to run me through.  Watching him preparing to strike me down in the name of the Inquisition, Oh - Maker, it was all I could do to not throw myself before him.”  She sunk further in the tub, staring at the ceiling.  “Ugh, Bull does that make me weird?”

Bull shrugged, “Everyone has their thing.  I once knew a woman who got off on me talking about the breakfast I would treat her to in the morning.  It was fun talking about how much she liked sucking on sausage and licking up syrup, but a real pain in the ass when she actually wanted all that shit in the morning.  Do you really think I remembered what I said?”

“Haha!”  She flicked water at him.  “Yes you would.  Although I’m sure you didn’t let her know.” 

Bull never looked back at Cullen, he assumed that Bull did it as a way to let him come to terms with what he needed to do.  Cullen pressed his back against the wall and worked to focus his mind on controlling his body.  His nerves wanted to make him shake with embarrassment at having to perform in front of someone.  Taking a few more steading breaths, he realized that his nerves changed to make him shake with desire.  Looking at Bull and the Inquisitor so close to each other, he began to think what he would feel if they touched.  Not just touch, but caressed.  His breathing quickened.  _Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all._

Cullen finished his assent up the stairs.  They both turned toward him, Bull sitting upright on the bed.  The way the daylight glistened on Itsasne’s wet body reminded Cullen of how she smelled, how she tasted and inflamed his boldness to pursue his risky plan.  He pulled a chair to face her and sat in it gracefully.  Itsasne crossed her arms on the edge of the tub and rested her head on top.  Her eyes raked over him as she bit her bottom lip in hunger.    

“Bull, I have a favor to ask you.”  Cullen kept his eyes on his love, imagining the feel of her lips, her tongue, on his skin.  He needed desperately for his fantasies to start playing out in reality. 

Bull shrugged, “Sure, anything.”

“I want you to do something with my wife to make me jealous.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get hot in here.


	17. A New Life Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen decides to begin their married life in the most exciting way he can fathom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: very brief M/M

Bull strode confidently toward Itsasne.  “Do you really know what you're asking for?”  The question was clearly meant for them both.

She could hear a slight hesitation in Cullen’s voice, hinting that this was new territory for him.  His answer came in one shaky exhalation, “Maker, I hope so.”

She felt a blush cover her whole body.  This was completely unexpected and amazing.  Her pulse hammered in her throat.  She took deep breaths to steady herself, Maker how she loved him.    

“If I go too far, if it’s too much just say ‘phylactery’ and I stop.  No hard feelings.”  Bull now stood next to the tub, and called her name, “Et-sass-nay.”  He rolled the name in reverence.  She turned her back to Cullen, Bull offered an out stretched hand.  This was her chance to say no.  This was the last opportunity to turn back, to have things return to how they were before. 

She gripped his hand tight, conveying her conviction and he helped her stand, the water falling from her flushed skin.  She felt an odd sense of being reborn into a new life.  She was leaving behind all that she once was and committing to her future with Cullen, trusting him completely, trusting his decision to share.  The thought sent a jolt of excitement through her as she stepped into a flimsy robe that Bull held up.  She pulled it around herself and cinched the cord loosely at the waist.  The fabric clung to her wet body.  Bull looked down at her, one final request for permission.  Her smile was all he needed to twist her sharply so that she faced Cullen once more.  His massive hands trailed down her sides.  He squeezed her thighs which made her breath hitch as a reflex while he worked her muscles.   She could feel the power behind each touch, the way he held back to make each movement pleasurable.  Her head began to loll back but she snapped it back forward, remembering that Cullen was watching.  She wanted to see his face, to enjoy the tease they were playing out before him. 

“How can I make you jealous?  Look at her.”  Cullen’s eyes followed Bulls hands as they ran back up to her torso, cupping her breasts delicately, appreciatively.  Cullen wet his lips and shifted his weight in the chair, his body was undoubtedly affected by the scene.  She moaned as she pressed her body against the man behind her, she tilted her hips up and down to rub against the warrior’s growing erection.  Seeing Cullen’s hands twitch and his eyes capturing every detail excited her more.

“She desires you.  I’ve seen it in her eyes.  Even now as I touch her, she doesn’t think of me, her thoughts are only of you.”  Bull skimmed one hand down her taut stomach, she flinched at how the gentleness was so electrifying and spread throughout her core.   His hand slipped through the part in the robe and one finger found her damp, lush folds.  He plunged it within her.

“ _Oh-_ “  Her knees wanted to buckle under the intensity of the sudden sensation.  Cullen wordlessly mimicked the same sound as his jaw dropped.  He quickly balled his hand into a fist that he brought up to his face, an elbow on the arm rest, his eyes taking on a more predatory glare.  Bull was skillfully warming her up as a sensual pace, but it was knowing that Cullen was watching that truly stroked her fire. 

Bull pulled his hand back out and rubbed the finger with his thumb to show off the slickness.  “This is what you do to her.   Her body is always on the edge - waiting, wanting to serve you.”

Bull’s words rang through her with their truthfulness.  Cullen was never far from her thoughts and now Bull was giving them voice.  He brought the hand up to her face to trace her jawline.  Impulsively she captured his wet finger in her mouth and sucked on it loudly to show Cullen how she enjoyed tasting herself.  Cullen inched further forward in his seat. 

"All of Skyhold is jealous of you."  Bull nipped at her neck and shoulders while he fondled her breasts through the fabric of the robe.  Itsasne squirmed under his expert touch and pressed her thighs together, missing his earlier exploration and seeking some friction.  “Tell me Inquisitor, do you want more?”  His voice was as rough as his beard felt, but still had a rich smooth quality to it that revealed his intense sexuality. 

Itsasne looked at Cullen, biting her lip indecisively, wanting him to decide for her.  She watched him swallow and nod once eagerly, “Yes.” 

Bull’s confident hands come to her shoulders and pushed her damp robe onto the floor.  She took a deep breath, waiting fervently.  He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the desk.  Once he placed her on top, he knelt on the floor while his hands spread her legs apart.  Her heart pounded ferociously.  With his intentions clear, she drew up her right leg and tentatively set it under his horn and rested her foot on his left shoulder.  The guttural moan from him had her apply more pressure with her foot, expressing how her arousal spiked higher.  Without ceremony he thrust two fingers in her while he captured the top of her cunt with his mouth.  His tongue danced over her swollen, sensitive clit.  His teasing only stopped when he switched to long laps that gave her beautiful pressure she felt she could almost swim in.  She could feel her wetness coat his fingers as he plunged them deeper, deeper within her.  His saliva flowed down over her onto his hand, the two body fluids creating a mess that drew a gleeful sigh from deep in her chest. 

As Bull worked her, played with her, Cullen came to her side.  He seemed fascinated by the scene, wrapped up in the new point of view, able to see everything from the vulgar act to the lust painted on her face.  Bull’s fingers were much larger than Cullen’s and the added thought of being on display for her husband had her on the verge of release.  Bull must have noticed her climb and abruptly pulled away from her.  She did not hide her frustration at being left incomplete when she fell backward to slam flat on the desk with a disappointed groan.

He let out a low laugh, “Sorry Boss, that is not for me to take.” 

~~*~~

Bull stood and eyed Cullen before he closed the short distance between them.  Cullen was apprehensive as the Qunari reached for Cullen’s breeches.  He took a half step backward, but one look at Bull’s questioning expression had him close his eyes to steel himself, giving over as Bull reached under the layers of cloth to undo his laces.  Cullen could recall hours of guard duties and training sessions that had forced him to concentrate beyond his surroundings.  To ignore pain, fatigue, to find untapped energy reserves in order to focus and press onward.  They taught him the discipline to face any task unflinchingly.  Bull was quickly cracking through that hard earned discipline.

Cullen braced his hands on Bull’s shoulders when Bull yanked his trousers loose from each leg, taking his boots with them.  Cullen stood naked from the waist down and somehow felt more exposed than if he were completely nude. 

Itsasne sat up on the desk, watching with passioned interest, her panting from being worked over moments before increased and her eyes widened.  Bull maneuvered himself behind Cullen.  He looked over Cullen’s shoulder to address Itsasne, “Look at what you’ve done to him.  I think you have ruined a good chantry boy.”  Bull tilted his head so that his face fit in the crook of Cullen’s neck, words flitting against the skin.  “Tell me, Templar, what does the chantry say will happen if you touch yourself?”

Cullen cleared his throat that had become coated in a nervous thickness.  He barely managed the one word, “Lightning.”

“Well then, what if **I** touch you?”  Bull reached around and palmed his cock in one hand making Cullen’s eyes pop open with a gasp at the unexpected contact. 

“Yes, _oh-_ yes.”  Itsasne’s words voiced his thoughts.  Cullen smirked, congratulating himself for having this idea. 

“Tell her.  Tell her what you did to yourself alone that night after your first kiss.  What you did while thinking of her.”  Cullen was astounded at the only word that came to mind as Bull was handling him– _intense_.  Bull kept the same pace, but the heat within Cullen continued to build.  “Did lightning strike then?”

Bull’s gaze shifted toward the desk.  “Come Itsasne, make him beg.  Remind him why he shouldn’t be without you.  Remind him why he paces the battlements each day that you are away.”

She melted to her knees from the desk.  Cullen wanted to enjoy Bull’s firm grip but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Itsasne.  She was on all fours as she made her way to him, her smile speaking promises that he couldn’t begin to imagine. 

Bull pumped Cullen’s cock mere inches from her face.  Cullen was already imagining his hot shot roping across her face, catching in her eyelashes when she looked up at him.  His feral growl shook his entire body, reminding him that Bull held him tight from behind.  Itsasne’s hands ran up his inner thighs, over his hips to round behind to grasp his ass firmly.  Opening wide, she leaned forward.  Cullen shuddered uncontrollably when he felt Bull stoking him while her lips slowly made their way around his throbbing dick.  Eventually Bull had to release she took Cullen balls deep and held him there.  _Maker, he was lodged in her throat._   She swallowed repeatedly making her throat clench around him.

“Maker’s breath!” Cullen’s legs began to shake threatening to give out, but Bull grabbed at his armor from behind to hold him up.  Cullen stared down at her open mouthed, headless of anything else in the world.  All of his concentration was on breathing, as if his life depended on it.   It very well may have.  She moved on to a slow pumping motion with her lips still wrapped around him.  Intermitantly she would look up at him, her eyes smiling.  After a few dips, she pulled off him.  “Am I good to you?    Do you like how you can fill all of me?”

His fingers were snaked into her hair, helping her resume the rhythmic pace.  “Fuck, yes.  _Fuck!”_

"You need to stop Itsasne, he's almost undone."  Before Cullen could react, Bull moved swiftly around him and had snatched her up, carrying her over his shoulder to the bed.  Her weight was nothing to his battle-tested muscles.

“No!”  Cullen fell forward to his knees at the loss, barely quick enough to have his arms save him his face from eating the floor.  Breathing laboriously he stood, walking to where Bull had taken her.  He kept his eyes on her while he undid the fastenings on the remainder of his clothing, stripping himself of his armor.  He watched enviously as Bull delicately laid her down.  Bull knelt on both knees above her head, her legs dangled over the edge.  Her hands wondered up and down Bull’s thick arms, needing some fleshy contact.  Bull reciprocated, curling his fingers around her lithe arms.  Heat built in Cullen’s stomach and trickled down to his groin, still pulsing, _still_ not having reached release. 

When Cullen stood at the edge of the bed between her legs, Bull grasped her biceps, using them to pull her more squarely on the bed.  He didn’t let go.  Her elegant elongated body seemed to pulse with lust.  Bull spoke to Cullen again, “She will do anything, be anything just to please you.  _You_ are her ultimate fantasy.”

Cullen climbed the bed, resting between her legs on his knees.  Bull continued to whisper low into her ear.  His words had a teasing tone to them, even though Cullen couldn’t make them all out.  Cullen marveled at her soft bronze skin.  He kissed up her leg, creating a silken trail that left behind goose bumps.

She soon broke from Bull’s spell and finally spoke for herself.  “Cullen, I trust you implicitly, but right now I need it rough. If you don’t fuck me hard, and fuck me right now, I might die, please!”

Remembering his recent denial, Cullen teased her.  “Not yet.”  His hands reached out clasping her knees to draw them up.  “Turn over for me.”

Itsasne gracefully adjusted to resting on all fours between the two men, looking from one to the other, eager to know what came next.  Cullen pressed against her, his hips resting against her ass.  He leaned forward while pulling her hair back to have her face meet his.   Kissing along her shoulder, he stopped at the base of her neck.  “Do you want to taste him?  Make him cum for me?”

There was a brief moment when he thought he had finally crossed the line that they had never discussed.  His dread told his heart to stop but his lust was raging, telling it to pump faster. 

She wetted her lips before a throaty moan poured from her silky lips.  “Yes, Cullen yes.”

Letting go of her hair, Cullen lightly pressed on her back to encourage her forward.  Bull remained still, allowing her to explore with her hands at her own pace.  She quickly tired of the hints of shape by feeling through his clothes and hastily worked his erection out.  It fell forward, heavy.  Her hands gripped his thighs roughly while she drank him in.  Cullen thought he was going to lose control when Bull roared with satisfaction.  Cullen watched, knowing from experience how her tongue was swirling around his dick, how her lips pressed deep into his flesh.  All he could think of was how amazing it was to see her milking the cum out of him.  It was the hottest thing that he never thought to imagine. 

Ripping his attention from the vision before him, Cullen massaged his hands into Itsasne’s rounded cheeks.  _Maker, she was perfect._   Still dripping from earlier, he glided into her. Hissing through his teeth, he felt the grip of her soft velvet folds as he drove in and out of her.  Cullen managed to keep a decent pace so he could enjoy her thoroughly.  The slurping sounds she made with Bull sparked his nerves, heightening every sensation.  He continued his worship of her body, placing kisses all over her back, her skin under his lips was the most decadent of tastes.  She responded so well to everything he did, everything dirty word he said.  He was fleetingly ashamed of the filthy things he uttered but, he found himself eager to say them again in the future, knowing he would take her over and over again.  **_My_** _wife…_

Lost in his own thoughts, he only caught the tail end of Bull pumping his load in her welcoming mouth, swallowing what landed true.  A surge of desire tore through Cullen, he jerked out of her, dragged her up by the arm to face him.  Without hesitation he plundered her mouth, his tongue plunged forward tasting the fresh Qunari load.  Excitement squeezed his lungs like a vice.

“I love you Cullen.”  It came out almost like a prayer, begging for attention.  He had meant to drive her wild but found he had driven himself to near insanity.  He laid her back down on the lavish fabrics and wedged himself between her legs to languidly make love to her. 

“I love you, I love you.”  His kisses turned into ravenous nips.  “My beautiful, powerful, talented wife.” His words came out in ragged pants of pure primitive need.

His desires become increasing carnal.  Pleasure shredded through him as he suddenly thrust hard into her, making her scream.  She arched backward, fully submitting to his will.  She moaned shamelessly as he filled her, owning her.  Her body was shaking with the force of his savage thrusts. 

Bull’s voice came from elsewhere in the room.  “Stop holding back.  She wants it, she needs it from you.  You know that only you can make her sweet cunt cum.”

His forceful rhythm soon turned to fast and frenzied pounding.  “Maker, Yes!  Oh, Cullen yes!  **_Don’t stop, don’t stop!  Don’t stop!_** ”  Her words flung him over the edge as he exploded within her.  After he had been denied release earlier, Cullen found himself drowning under the tide of his orgasm.  He shivered while he braced himself over her, unable to move since she hooked her ankles together in her own orgasm.  Itsasne had the sated look of exquisite ecstasy.  Her body clenched at him to claim every last drop. 

“Sit up, I want to taste us.”  Her voice was drowsy and low.  It stirred his passion for her even in his spent state. 

“You don’t… _ugh_ …”  He was too sensitive to offer any protest once she had him.  She was delicate and considerate, licking lightly and sucking gently at his head.

“I do it because I love it, because I love you.”  She gave him a few more slow licks before collapsing on her side.  Cullen followed immediately, both lost in each other’s bliss.  Cullen traced her curves with his finger while she rested her head on his shoulder.  After too short a time she groaned in irritation.

“Shit.  We only have a few hours left before the Matron Empress is here.  We need to have a war council before then.”  She continued to grumble to herself as she haphazardly made her way out of bed and into the adjacent washroom. 

It was only now that Cullen realized that Bull had at some point moved to the couch by the fire.  Cullen wrapped a sheet around his waist, unsure where his clothes had ended up.  He sat in a chair a respectable distance from Bull.

“You, uh…are you or, I mean, are we alright?”  Cullen was astounded how his unrestrained lust had granted him such boldness earlier and now that confidence has dissipated entirely. 

Bull chuckled.  "We’re good.  I'm better than good.  You don't need to worry about me."

Cullen accepted his answer with a curt nod.  “I have to admit that this was surprising.  I'm not sure what I expected, but this was...actually, really nice.”

“Not everything has to be belts and gags and shit.  The past few days have been rough.  You both needed this.”

Cullen glanced at him sideways, questioning the comment.  “Ben-hassrath, remember?  I grew up learning how to read and manipulate people.”  Bull quickly glanced over at the door where Itsasne had gone through to change.  He lowered his voice.  “Speaking of which, her family is playing with you.  The both of you.”

Cullen released a heavy sigh.  “I know.  I can’t make sense of it though.  I plan to bring it up at the next war room.”

“Neither can I, but as the Chargers and I stick to her, you should have some of your men stick near you.  Something isn’t right.”

Cullen nodded thoughtfully, Bull was correct.  Something was off and they couldn’t take any chances, not when everything seemed to finally go in his favor for once in his life.   

Bull did once last hurried glance to ensure Itsasne was still out of earshot.  "Cullen, this may be bad timing but you need to know.”

"What is it?" 

"I've seen some serious injuries in my time, some real nasty shit.  I've even done a few sessions of _persuasive_ interrogation.  I know scars.  The ones on her back...they're not from battle."

"Cullen what are you doing?  Get dressed!"  Itsasne tossed Cullen’s breeches at him, then rushed to collect his other bits of clothing.

Cullen looked to Bull for more insight.  Instead he waved his hand low out of Itsasne’s sight and mouthed _'later'_.


	18. Even Death Fears Lyrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor faces punishment, but not the one that everyone had expected due to one last lie.

 

  
Knight-Commander Barris spent the evening at the Commander’s side at his request due to the growing unease at the presence of the Osai.  He was with the Inquisitor and the advisors when they received the Matron Empress and the heads of the Council.  After the obligatory formalities the Inquisitor received the Matron Empress, the daughter heiress and the six brothers in the privacy of the Ambassador’s office.  It was there that the final customs were seen to that had the union between the Commander and the Inquisitor made official in the eyes of the Empire.  Krem had relieved Bull prior to the meeting and both Delrin and the mercenary exchanged looks of surprise.  He had been certain that the Commander’s actions that morning had been an engagement, but the misunderstandings between cultures must have expedited events. 

Delrin was surprised to see that the Empress was younger than the Inquisitor by a good number of years and was also accompanied by her oldest daughter.  When the entourage had entered the gates, the Inquisitor had quickly informed the advisors that it was custom for the heiress to shadow the Empress from infancy as a means to learn what would be required from her in the future.  The presence of the girl was unnerving as she watched and absorbed everything around her.  She couldn’t have been more than ten or so.  The brothers were in service to the military and of varying ranks with different areas of responsibility across the Empire.  The Inquisitor mentioned their ranking, but the names were too foreign to remember with accuracy.  Originally there were nine brothers, but military service never guaranteed a long life.  He was still puzzling out their structure when abruptly, all business had been concluded and a time set for the ‘execution’ in the morning. The Ambassador’s office was swiftly vacated in the wake of the uncomfortable circumstances. 

It seemed like sheer lunacy that they had to go through a physical punishment to have the Inquisitor declared ‘dead’ to her family due to her status as ‘traitor’.  The Commander had explained the reasons the previous night to the ranking officers, who in turn disseminated the important particulars to the forces, all of which made sense when seen in the right light.  This particular light was one of what should be done in the best interests of the Inquisition, not the comfort of the Herald. 

 

A sharp scream followed by a thick laugh broke Delrin’s reflection of the whirlwind pace of the evening’s proceedings.  He and Krem stood guard outside the Inquisitor’s chambers, or rather, the chambers of the Inquisitor _and_ the Commander.  He knew that the Commander was no longer bound to the order and was free to pursue life as he wished, but it still grated on him a bit to know that the Commander entered into a union without the blessing of the Chantry. 

"So, I take it you never..."  Krem's constant grin persisted as he inclined his head toward the Inquisitor's room.  Delrin knew the man was laughing at his expense.

"No.  I uphold the vows I took upon entering the Order."

Krem scoffed.  "Not even curious?"

"No." _Blessed Andraste, couldn’t the man shut up._

Krem crossed his arms and shrugged, finally dropping the topic.  At least the uncomfortable conversation had kept him distracted from the uninhibited noises that came from behind the closed door.  Delrin understood the mechanics behind sex but was at a loss as to how it could possibly require such prolonged activity.  Honestly, he didn't want to know.  It was distracting enough to have the image of the Commander’s shredded back still rattling in his mind.  It was another matter entirely to be on the edge of invading his privacy and have to hear it happening, again.  He finally resigned himself to move further down the hallway until the sounds receded enough to easily ignore. 

Another half hour passed and the door creaked open.   The Inquisitor slipped out and attempted to silently shut it behind her. 

“Krem, where is the Knight-Commander?”

“O’er there.  Couldn’t stomach listening to you two love birds gettin’ it off.”

She glared at Krem, "At least some people are gentlemen."

"Really?  The Commander didn't sound so _gentle_ a few moments ago."  In a flash the Inquisitor had reached behind Krem and rapidly landed four solid blows on both sides of his lower back.  She then shoved him against the wall.

"You're going to piss blood for next couple of days, I hope it was it worth it.  You quite finished?"

"Yes, your Worship."  His voice was strained and surprisingly held no tone of animosity.    It is likely that he had expected some sort of punishment for his crude remarks.   It was now unclear if he meant that ‘yes it was worth it’ or ‘yes he’s done’.  As unbecoming as it was to take pleasure in another's pain, Delrin couldn't hide his smirk at seeing Krem doubled over.

"Knight-Commander Barris and I are going to see The Iron Bull.  If by some miracle the Commander wakes up asking for me, that's where we are."  Krem still found the balls to chuckle at the description of the Commander worn out and in bed.  _I suppose the answer was, ‘yes, it was worth it.’_

The Inquisitor sent Krem an irritated look then inclined her head down the hall.  Delrin followed at her side.  Once they were out of Krem’s earshot she broke their silence. 

"I would like to apologize Ser Barris.  I was unaware how inconsiderate we were being."  
She ducked her head at the apology, genuinely embarrassed.

“Unnecessary, Inquisitor.”  They continued to their destination on the far end of the battlements in a comfortable silence. 

When Bull answered the door, his state of undress let them know he had risen from bed.  Delrin was surprised to see that the Qunari could manage to wear even less than normal.    
"Boss.  What's up?"  
"I need to talk to you about tomorrow.  The both of you."

***

The crisp morning air that was usually invigorating, now felt ominous.  A crowd had begun to gather at the gallows.  The Osai Council and other key members were at the forefront.  Delrin sneered at the thought of them vying for a good view.  He turned his attention to his charge.  The Commander was standing with the Inquisitor, they held each other’s hands while they spoke in low tones to each other.  Delrin recognized the scene from the descriptions the other Captains had given him as a typical ritual that the couple went through before undertaking a significant mission.  They stood in a darkened alcove which afforded a modicum of privacy.  It occurred to Barris that during the months of their restrained relationship, they had probably found every darkened corner and hidden alcove in Skyhold for such stolen moments.  Bull kept a watchful on their surroundings, unaffected by the intimacy shared behind him. 

An announcement was made from the platform.  Bull stepped closer, “Boss, they’re calling for you.”

She nodded, she caressed his cheek, tracing his jaw then skimming her fingers under his chin to draw him closer.  “Andraste will give me strength.”  She rose up for a gentle kiss.  “While you will give me purpose.  I shall embrace the light.  I shall weather the storm.  I shall endure.”  The Commander pressed his forehead to hers in a final parting gesture of endearment.

Their faith was steadfast, their dedication unwavering.  It was at this moment that Barris understood the wonder that the Captains had attempted and failed to convey when relating their descriptions of the Inquisitor being with her Commander.  It wasn’t a weakness, but show of strength.  He now chided himself for his earlier thoughts as he came to the conclusion that not even the Chantry could bind them any closer them they already were. 

The Commander made his way to the side of the gallows that was reserved for the advisors.  Josephine was conspicuously absent, the Inquisitor was able to bargain for her absence.  Apprehension was creeping over Ser Barris as the charges were being read to the crowd, followed by the Inquisitor’s guilty plea for each.  He and Bull moved to either side of the Commander, attempting to not draw much notice.  The voice droned on and the Commander only showed irritation that the procedures were taking so long.  Delrin waited, not hearing a word that was said as the Inquisitor had already warned he and Bull last night when she had enlisted their help.  Then, he saw it.  Commander Cullen broke from his stern stance and was in a panic.

“What are they doing?  They can’t do this!  This is not what we agreed on!”  He yelled at Leliana who was in a similar state of disbelief but had managed to hold her composure.  As the Inquisitor had predicted, he attempted to storm the stage.  Delrin and Bull pulled him back down, each bracing themselves against a shoulder.  This caused his actions to become even more hysterical.  Leliana was now speaking to him in a harsh tone to keep him quiet.  He calmed down but Delrin and Bull kept their firm grip on his arms.  They all watched as the Inquisitor was presented with a flask of lyrium that was of such a dark blue it seemed purple.  She drank the substance and turned her back to the crowd.   Her shirt was removed and hands restrained over her head as if she were going to receive a typical flogging.  That is what they had been original told was going to happen.  Last night she had revealed to Delrin the truth.  Her crimes were considered so grave that it was decided that in lieu of the death penalty, they would have her undergo lyrium stripping.  The first part was to ingest lyrium and allow enough time for it to permeate into her blood. 

An Osai mage held a thin staff that he touched to the center of her back, then jerked it away as though pulling an invisible string through her chest and out her back.  Her veins sparked, creating lightning trails as wisps of lyrium were ripped out through her skin.  The wisps tore through muscles like razors, the slashes filling with dark blood that had lost its purple glow. 

One

“NO!”  The Commander was struggling with full force against his two captors.  His feet slipped in the dirt.  Barris began to wonder if the two of them would be enough.

He could feel the Commander try to cleanse the area of magic.  The Commander was so far removed from the last time he took lyrium that Delrin could barely identify his attempt to tap into the empty power source.  His efforts were as effective as throwing punches in a dream.  All of the man’s strength went into them, but only resulted in a soft breeze.

Two

Sister Leliana was backed against a nearby wall, miraculously maintaining a neutral expression.  Barris now feared what the Nightingale has seen in her time.  Maker only knows what she has done in her life. 

Three

“That is my wife!  I have to... **Let me go**!”  Commander Cullen was wide-eyed and furious as he roared at the two of them.

Bull spoke low in his ear.  “No, that is the Inquisitor.  She knows what she is doing and is no stranger to the rod.”

Four

Barris knew a harsh cry came from Commander Cullen but his voice was drowned out by the shrill screams from the crowd.  Barris turned in time to see that the jagged lines were covering most of her back and arms and had increased to the point that they intersected in multiple places.  Small pieces of spongy flesh had fallen to the blood moist boards of the platform.  Nearly all of the Orlesians were fleeing from the gruesome sight back to the castle.  

Five  
  
Looking through the crowd Delrin saw that much of the Inquisition forces were averting their eyes.  He saw a few Templars here and there sway with uneasy stomachs but stubbornly trying to save face.  He himself pushed down the acidic bile that was rising in his throat.  

Six  
  
Barris faced the Commander once again who had found renewed strength to fight against them.  Delrin pressed hard into the commander's shoulder, bracing himself into his forceful struggles.

Seven

Only three more strikes.  The leader of the Inquisition's forces was finally resigned.  The Commander's weight began to sag but Bull kept him upright to preserve his pride.  It didn't really seem to matter as no one spent any attention on him, only her.

Eight

Two more and it would be done.  Delrin could taste a hot salty liquid reach his lips.  Wetting his lips with his tongue, he knew it was not sweat. He blinked hard to cut it off at the source. 

Nine

A lifetime had passed.  Even with his face half buried in the feathery pauldron, he could still recall the stoic faces of the Osai in attendance.  Not a one shed a tear, not a one seemed fazed.  His anger became a cement weight in his gut, anchoring his thoughts to push through.  _Just one more._

Ten

As soon as the sound of the last strike rang, pandemonium broke out.  Delrin and Bull released their hold.  The Osai guards cut the Inquisitor's hands loose.  Her devoted husband had already leapt up onto the platform and caught her before her limp body could hit the ground.  The healers, including Masters Pavus and Solas shouted terse impatient demands for the Commander to bring her to the infirmary.  There was no fool dumb enough or brave enough in all of Thedas who would have attempted to pry her from the Commander's iron hold.  

Barris looked down at his hands to flex his fingers.  He was cold, but not from the chilly weather.  He felt sweat dripping down his forehead.  The trails left behind felt like icicles.  A large warm hand patted him on the neck.  Bull stopped him from registering his shock.  "You alright?  C’mon, we still have a job to do."  He managed a nod, gathered his composure and then followed Bull to the infirmary.  
  
Outside the infirmary Ser Perrin had soldiers keeping people away from the building, the Chargers monitored the door.  When he and Bull reached the group of mercenaries, Bull gave out curt instructions for some of the men to fan out to other areas, ensuring full coverage of the building.  "...and Stitches, you stay to keep an eye on the boss since you have some healing experience."  A messenger approached Barris interrupting his eavesdropping.  

"Knight-Commander, sister Leliana has asked that the Commander come to the war room right away."  As soon as he finished stating his message, the recruit fled.   _Coward_.  Delrin took a deep breath, then ducked into the infirmary.  Things had calmed down but people still moved with hurried purpose.  

The Inquisitor lay face down on a cot, rags were spread underneath to catch the drippings from her gashes that were slow to mend.  Her skin resembled mud that had dried so rapidly in the sun that it cracked to create deep valleys.  Master Solas sat next to the wall, exhausted while he alternated between drinking water and a health potion.  Master Pavus was at her side continuing the delicate healing magic, his focus blocked out all of the goings-on around him.  The Commander was at her other side on his knees, holding her left hand and running his fingers through her sweat soaked hair.  

Never in Delrin's wildest imagination could he have pictured the Herald of Andraste looking so formidable.    She should have looked weak, but all he saw was the strong sense of purpose.  He imagined this was what the soldiers of old must have felt when they followed Andraste.  There was nothing that would ever stop her, her sacrifice was for the Inquisition, in the name of the Maker.  

As he approached, he could hear the Commander's soft words, "Itsasne, please.  I can't handle any more secrets.  Please tell me there are no more.  Andraste preserve me, let there be no more."  
  
Her face was already turned to his.  She was pale to the point that her normally radiant skin appeared tainted and sickly.  Her voice was just below a whisper.  "Oro.  I was weak, forgive me Cullen."

This last exertion sent her spiraling into a deep sleep.  Her right arm fell limp over the edge of the cot.  A coin fell to the ground and rolled to a stop at the Commander's boot.  The Commander picked it up and thumbed the red smudge on the engraved image of Andraste.  He turned her hand over to see the palm.  A deep crescent gouge matching the shape of the coin indicated that during her punishment, she had held onto it for dear life.  _Andraste had given her strength._


	19. Revenge for Past Wrongs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen accepts that his hands are tied in regards to the Inquisitor's recent punishment, but he finds a new focus for restrained anger at the mistreatment that Itsasne has suffered in the past.

Cullen stared at the coin and felt a tightness in his chest that pulled at his ribs.  He recalled Bull’s words, ‘ _her thoughts are only of you._ ’  He tucked the coin in the space between her wrist and her leather marriage cuff. 

“You’re coming with me.”  Cullen grabbed Ser Barris’ upper arm and steered him toward the door.

“Commander.”  Solas interjected rapidly to prevent him from rushing out the door.  “You should know that her connection with her family is now gone.”

“I already understand that she has been disowned…”

“No, not that.  She can no longer ‘speak’ with them.  There is no lyrium left.”  Solas thought hard on his words in such a public setting.  “All of it is gone.  She will need your guidance in the coming days.”

Cullen felt a chill crawl beneath his skin.  _No, not this.  Not for her._   Looking back at her sleeping soundly he despaired at her ever waking again.  He knew the pain that the withdrawals would bring as soon as she was conscious.  Remembering that he still held on to the Knight-Commander he continued his exit.  _One thing at a time._

Outside, he let go of Ser Barris and turned his furry on Bull.  “What did you mean earlier?  What _exactly_ did you mean when you said she was familiar with the rod?  I’ll not take any more games.”

“I tried to tell you yesterday.  The scars she had on her back, she’s been flogged before, multiple times.  You can see the way some of them were healed beneath the newer ones.”  He paused with a quick glance at the infirmary door.  “Well, you _used_ to be able to see them.”

“Are you telling me that she was beaten, not once, but on several occasions by her own family?”  Cullen shook his head incredulously.

“You mean other than today?  Possibly.  She has been open about everything since we heard the Osai were coming.  I’m not sure why she has stayed tight lipped about this.”  Bull’s mouth twisted up in a half grin.  “But I can find out.  I already asked for Sera’s help yesterday.  She may have something.  I’ll send her if she has found out anything.”

“See that you do.”  Turning on Ser Barris he continued.  “You get some Templars down here, then meet me in the war room.  I don’t want any of those fucking Osai mages anywhere near her.”  Barris nodded in assent as Cullen left at a steadfast pace.  His mind was fighting with his body over how to process and react to the morning’s events.  His anger felt like a spring that was compressed to its limit.  Passing near Ser Perrin, he called out to her.  “I need you to be sure that none of the Osai come into contact with the Inquisitor.  She is dead to them and they no longer have any claim on her.”

“At once, Ser.”  She saluted then strode off to reorganize the soldiers and amend their instructions. 

Cullen stormed into the war room.  He did not even pass a cursory glance around the room before bursting into his tirade.  "I will no longer pander to these selfish shits!  Did you see them?!   They flayed her to the bone and felt nothing, said nothing!  The Void take that whole blighted empire.  They are nothing if not sick and abusive.  I recommend we force them back to where they came from.”

"You cannot be suggesting we start a war over this!" Josephine was aghast with the sincerity that Cullen had placed on his words.  
  
Cullen could feel a darkness fill his eyes as he growled.  "Watch me.  Our forces would be glad to march after what those deceptive bastards did today."  
  
"Cullen, please.  Stop and remember why we are here.  You cannot throw away the gains that she has suffered for.  You must see reason…" Leliana began to chide before Cullen broke in.  
  
“Seeing reason is what has brought us here in the first place.  Would you have me stand by while the Inquisitor is holding onto life by a thread?”  The door opened and Knight-Commander Barris let himself in.  Cullen continued.  “In addition, Bull swears she's taken a beating before, on multiple occasions.”  
  
Ser Barris stepped forward to include himself in the circle they had formed around the table.  “It wasn’t the family.  It must have been the fiancé.”

"What do you mean?" Leliana was surprised as his sudden contribution, but was fully intrigued.   
  
"Months ago when she saved Knight-Lieutenant Gawain from hurting himself, she told him that her greatest failure was to her fiancé and that he attacked her because of it.  Her family has no idea what she suffered while with him.  She said she was too ashamed at the time to confess it."  
  
"What is his name?  Is he here?"  Cullen’s frustrated anger had found a new target.   
  
Josephine flipped through her notes.  “I see no mention of a fiancé…”

“What about the name Oro?”  Cullen supplied, remembering Itsasne’s parting words. 

"Yes, there is an…Asier Oro."  Josephine scrunched her face as she kept reading.  "One reason she may have kept quiet is that he is from a powerful house.  His family holds five seats on the council.  The next closest house only has three.  He's well protected so he must have used that as leverage to keep her quiet."  
  
"Whatever he used, it was significant enough that he cracked her skull open and she still told no one."  At Barris’ words, the room had its first moment of quiet since Cullen’s arrival. 

Cullen knew exactly where the mentioned injury was.  He could remember the rolling curve of the mismatched bone that he had felt on numerous occasions and simply passed it off as a battle wound that had not healed properly.  He could almost guess which blunt object had been used now that he knew the true origin of the disfigurement.   
  
Leliana swept her hands out in front of her, “Wait, we are still working on pure speculation.  We have no proof that this Oro is the same person the Inquisitor spoke of to Ser Gawain.”  Leliana placed a reassuring hand on Cullen’s shoulder.  “I will have my people look into this before we take action.  We must proceed carefully.”        

Reluctantly, Cullen nodded in agreement. 

***

Cullen had wanted to return to the infirmary but with recent events that had pulled him from his normal duties, he found that he could no longer neglect them.  The only comfort he found that afternoon was that the whole of the Osai forces and nobility would leave in the morning.  He continued to follow Bull’s advice and tasked Ser Rylen to shadow him for the remainder of the day to relieve Barris.  Rylen was thankful for the duty as most of his responsibilities had already been taken care of in preparation for his return to the Western Approach and he had begun to feel a little too idle. 

Commander Cullen was in his office for the rest of the day as all work that had been put on hold quickly found him there.  Any time he wasn’t using his right hand, he unconsciously rubbed at his marriage cuff throughout the day.  He had relinquished his gloves so he could better feel the tooled leather.  He convinced himself that it brought him closer to the other half of his heart that was now mending in the infirmary. 

It was nearing dusk when Sera barged in.  “Alright you gits, bugger off, I need a word with Commander Uptight here.”

None of the soldiers made a move to leave and looked to Cullen for direction.  “Is this about the tasking Bull gave you?”

“Oooh, you know it is!  Good one too!”  Sera propped herself on the corner of Cullen’s desk and swung her legs idly off the ground in her giddiness. 

“Everyone is dismissed, except Rylen.”  Cullen took a seat behind his desk to help him keep his neutral composure.  “Sera, get down!”  His insides were fluttering at the prospect of learning if he had been right about Oro.    

As soon as the room was cleared, Sera delved into the intelligence she had gathered.  “Right, so I’ve been talking to some of the visiting Ossey servants.  I bet they are more straight forward than the crazy ass-biscuits you lot have to deal with.  Anyway, turns out that our Inky is the one who should have been Empress, not the younger sister.  This fiancé she used to have was so livid when the sister had a daughter first, he took it out on our Sassy.”  Cullen scowled at the new nickname that Sera had penned since learning the Inquisitor’s given name.  “Having a daughter is what put the sister as Matron Empress ahead of Sassy.  They said that’s when the beatin’s started.  He claimed it was ‘motivation’ to do her duty or whatnot.”

Rylen was unable to keep a quiet _Fuck me_ from slipping out.

“I know right?”  Sera turned back to Cullen.  “Friggin user, I hope you have some nasty plans for shitbag’s worthless arse.”

Cullen placed his hands on the desk, gripping the edge in anticipation.  “Did they tell you the fiancé’s name?” 

“Ass-r Oro.  Piss-stupid name if you ask me.”

“Thank you Sera, that will be all for now.”  He brought his hand up to rub at his neck.  This was the connection, the solid facts that he needed to make the ex-fiance pay for what he’d done.  The greatest puzzle was figuring out how to proceed knowing that dealing with the Osai up to this point had required walking on eggshells. 

“Aren’t you going to do sumthin?  This is a different thing from what happen’d this morning innit?  We can actually do sumthin about this right?”  Cullen could tell she was irritated at being offhandedly dismissed and wasn’t afraid to show it, if she was ever afraid of anything. 

“I will speak with the other advisors.  Again, thank you Sera.”  Cullen rose and gestured her to the door.  She stormed out at the lack of immediate action.  He groaned inwardly at the thought of involving Josephine and Leliana. Their knowledge of ‘the game’ would not have the same results that he would prefer. 

Cullen sat back down and rubbed at his eyes with both hands.  He could hear Rylen pacing the office, but he was too concerned with coming up with some sort of plan of action to bother wondering why Rylen was fidgeting in such a manner. 

After a few minutes, he broke the silence.  "Commander, did I ever mention that I have a sister?  Real close we were.  We would tell each other all of our secrets.  You know the silly ones that kids imagine to be important.  I remember the first boy she liked.  When she'd gotten up the nerve to tell him, he pushed her into the mud while he and his friends laughed.  There were four of them but that didn't stop me from attempting to teach them a lesson.  I ended up recovering in bed for two days but they never bothered her again."  Rylen paused to consider if he should continue, watching Cullen to gauge his reaction. "The fierce protection of those closest to us seems to be a uniquely Fereldan custom, that _might_ lead to cultural misunderstandings.  Wouldn't you agree Commander?"

"Yes.  I think you're right." Cullen couldn’t help but smirk at the obvious suggestion.  "Surely there is no harm in having a conversation with this Asier Oro."

The grin that Rylen gave in return gave the indication that talking wasn’t going to be the only thing that happened during this ‘conversation’.  “After you Commander.”

***

By the time the two men had reached the correct guest quarters Cullen had worked himself up from sifting through arguments in his mind.  He burst into the room without ceremony.  There were a few retainers in the room with the Osai noble, but Oro waved at them to stay at bay.  His condescending smile further infuriated Cullen.  _That son-of-a-bitch knows why I’m here._

“I would like to know how you felt you had any right to treat Itsasne as chattel to be abused on a whim.”  He advanced on the arrogant man, ignoring the fact that he and Rylen were grossly outnumbered. 

Oro was unphased by the Commander’s accusation.  His malevolent demeanor gave the appearance that he slithered about the room.  “So, you lawless animals figured it out did you?  That’s more than I can say for the Imperial family.  It is fascinating how using guilt against someone who is unable to fulfill their duty has been extremely beneficial to me, up until recently.” 

Cullen gritted his teeth while his fingers dug into his fisted palms.  “Her silence allowed you to act with impunity.”

One of the retainers was a mage who appeared from the adjacent room.  He stood at Oro’s side as if by silent command.  “And my status as a guest here continues to allow me to act with impunity.” 

“Commander!”  The one word was the only warning that Rylen was able to offer before he was grounded by a guard and rendered helpless.  Oro had taken the staff from the mage next to him and swifter than anyone would expect form a pampered noble, swung it full force at Cullen, causing his head snap sharply to the side.  

Oro sauntered next to Cullen, confident that his men would provide him safety.  His voice was calm and even, conflicting with his violent outburst.  "You robbed me of everything I had worked for.  Do you have any idea what you he cost me?"

Cullen's head bobbed in disorientation, he bit back the throbbing pain.  He’d lived with worse over the past few months.  This was hardly worth acknowledging.  He righted himself and registered that there were three more guards behind him at the ready.  Cullen refrained from retaliating.  "What are you getting at?"

"When you married that barren bitch it stripped me as beneficiary.  As we both know, she died today, leaving me with no claims or any connection with the Imperial family."  The mage tapped Oro on the shoulder and handed him a vial of the purple lyrium that had been used that morning.  “I’m actually glad you sought me out.  Once I heard about the union, I decided to take care of you permanently.  I really don’t like to be inconvenienced, and you have certainly done just that.”

Oro took the jar and uncorked it.  He waved it under Cullen's nose.  The scent was more intense than red lyrium.  It was sweeter, more seductive as the sting of the vapors teased his senses with unfulfilled promises.  It called at him to be consumed.  Cullen tried to back away, but he was held solidly in place by the three guards who shifted from restraining him, to attacking.  He fought with every muscle in his body, focusing his attention on the pain of the blows raining down on him while the guards attempted to gain his submission.  

He needed the pain.  He needed the distraction to keep him from the want that was clawing at his insides and screaming in his mind to succumb.  It wasn’t enough, he needed more.  This type of pain simply wasn’t enough.  He laughed out loud as a fleeting thought that formed in his head; _I actually regret my withdrawal symptoms having faded today_.  

Mocking the beating earned him a swift kick to the ribs from Oro.  "I may not get back what is due to me, but at least I will have the satisfaction of killing you myself."  
  
Defiantly Cullen chuckled while blood began to ooze from his mouth in a steady stream to the floor.  He felt detached, as if he were watching another man being battered.  "How do you plan to explain a dead body away?"

Oro waved his hand flippantly.  “Accidents…happen.”  He played with the vial of lyrium in his hands.  “Had I known how effective this was as a punishment, I would have used this on her years ago.  It might have been a better incentive.  It didn’t have to be that way you know.  She was just so stubborn when I brought in other men to stud.” 

This caught Cullen’s attention.  He was remembering their first night together, her apprehension due to her history.   Oro was the reason why she had never had a positive experience.

Oro noted the drastic change in Cullen’s features.  “Oh, she didn’t tell you?  Ha!  I ensured she laid with any man I could find in my attempts get a daughter, but as we came to find out - the fault was with her.  Worthless.”  

Cullen looked back over at Rylen who was beginning to stir, but was still in no capacity to help him break free.  Options for escape came rapidly and were just as quickly dismissed at their impossibility.

Asier Oro was enjoying himself.  He smiled and taunted without a care.  He bent down to look Cullen even in the eyes while he laughed low in his throat.  “I can’t believe that she tried to marry above her disgraced station by entering into a union with you.”  He patted Cullen’s cheek.  “Even if I had let you live, she couldn’t even curse you with sons.  You could have had anyone and yet you choose the runt.”  Oro stood to grab Cullen's hair, jerking his head back, forcing him to look up.  "Stop fighting me.  Give in, you rabid dog.  Take comfort that I offer a moment of oblivion before you die."

One of the mages came to Cullen’s side and used a heat spell to work on his jaw.  He clenched his teeth but his muscles soon failed him.  An object was wedged between his teeth to pry his mouth open.  The lyrium flowed unimpeded past his mouth.  The adrenaline rush at the contact had Cullen instantly stop resisting.  The guards allowed him to crumple to the ground as he succumbed to the siren song of the enchanted substance that now filled a gaping hole that had burned in his soul for too long.

His vision had blacked out but he could clearly hear a now conscious Ser Rylen laughing in near hysterics.  His words caught randomly when he winced at the pain form his fresh injuries. “You truly are an idiot!  You just gave lyrium to a Templar!”  The laughter continued uninhibited but it was only a background noise as Cullen felt himself being swallowed with despair at having failed Itsasne.  _My thoughts are only of you._     


	20. Forty Royals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People live and die by the game, constantly playing for higher stakes.

A blissful power swirled all around and within him.  It floated through his mind, licked at his bones, sifted through his muscles and finally, finally took away all the pain.  Every discomfort, ache, soreness – it was all gone and replaced with extraordinary strength.  The allure faded to a bitter darkness as Itsasne surfaced to his thoughts.  His heart strained under the vice of disappointing her.  The memory of her words when she pulled him from his spiraling depression washed over him.

 _Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_  
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.  
I shall endure,

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder._

The Maker had created their love.  They guided each other through the darkness.  As he had given her purpose to make it through her punishment, he could find his way through this.  His love, his heart –  _We can endure this together. I will return to you._

He found courage in his hatred of what lyrium had done to him, how it reminded him of the past that haunted his nights.  Spitting it out came easier than he ever imagined possible.  His driven focus set on protecting his one piece of happiness after a lifetime of suffering in the name of a higher calling.   What little had remained, clinging to the inside of his mouth, was all that he needed.  This cocktail was fast acting and tainted his blood instantly. 

Cullen rose mechanically to his feet.  “He’s right.  You have made a grave mistake.”

Cullen lashed out with such punishing force that even the non-mage guards had been flung back by the magic nulling strike.   _That shouldn’t be possible._   Cullen closed his eyes and reached out for the river of lyrium that had snaked its way into his veins.  It was foreign but he could feel its power.  He drew from the source and merely guided the strike, allowing the lyrium to manifest itself as it willed.  Cullen wondered if this was what it felt like for mages to wield magic.  Letting it take its own form as it originated from the caster.   _Can you feel my anguish?  My need for vengeance?_

He was gratified that the last explosion had used much of the lyrium within him.  As he used it, he could fell it turn to a chalky dust within him.   What this serum had in speed, lacked for endurance.  Now that both he and Rylen free, the two of them towered over a prone Oro. 

“Andraste's mercy Commander! That wasn't a full dose, or even a half of one.”  Rylen raked his hand through this hair, attempting to calm his unease.  “Shit!  Are you certain the Champion was even there when you defeated Meredith?!”

An unspoken thought flickered behind his eyes that sent Rylen rushing to the pile of bodies in the corner of the room.  He stopped short and held up his hand in revulsion at the sight of the mutilated flesh.  All of them were contorted into unnatural positions, some even had joints snapped at odd angles.  Rylen coughed into his hand as he returned to Cullen’s side.  “There are no survivors.”

 “Stay away from me!  I have become familiar with your ambassador enough to know that the Inquisition is powerless in this matter.  I am a guest with influence with the Council!  There--there is an army at your gate!”  Oro's calm demeanor had been hastily exchanged for outright horror.  His attempt to sound authoritative resulted in stumbled attempts to stand and a cracked voice. 

“The army is of no concern of mine.  Did you really think I would leave us so vulnerable?  I had the maps forged.  They currently show that the valley has multiple exit points but there are only two.  Even if Commander Baladin has discovered the error in choosing the location, we have already repositioned the trebuchets to easily trap the bulk of the army in the valley and crush it easily.”  Culllen’s dark confidence fed off the desperation that was practically dripping from the trembling wretch at his feet.    

“As for your protection, I agree, the Inquisition will not pursue this matter with the Matron Empress.”  Oro’s sudden smugness was stifling and insufferable.  Cullen gave Rylen a sideways grin.  “ ** _I_**  on the other hand, have yet to properly acquaint you with Ferelden customs.” 

 

Cullen’s deep voice was like an ominous shadow that crept across the room and cut off the despicable man’s ability to breathe.  He lunged forward and asserted his rage by kicking Oro square in the chest.  The spoiled noble flailed further back on to the ground easily, having no armor he burst into a fit of strangled coughs.  Cullen took deep calming breaths that pulled at the remaining lyrium concentrated at his center.  Every punch landed with an additional sting as he purposed the lyrium to burn Oro’s skin where he made contact.  The flame enhanced blows were short lived.  After he had already eliminated the guards, there was little left in him to put Oro into a similar state as his wife, a skeleton dressed in flesh rags.  An old fashioned beating would have to suffice.  Cullen grabbed an arm, jerking him upright then landed another kick to the back of his leg.  He felt the knee dislocate instantly.  He had not planned on breaking any limbs, but  _I suppose accidents happen._

The beating continued with a concentrated focus on Oro’s torso and limbs, ensuring his consciousness for the entirety of it.  Cullen wanted, no, needed him to suffer.  As his fury began to cool, he gathered up the battered noble by grabbing his vest and lifting him face-to-face.  Oddly, Oro gave him a smirk filled with a few faint chuckles and nodded to something behind him.  Cullen turned and noticed that in the doorway stood one of the Empress’s personal guards who had arrived unnoticed.  He had seen everything.  Cullen knew he was doomed.

Oro managed to laugh through gurgles of blood filled spit.  “Now there is no hiding what you have done.”

Cullen paused to think briefly before he came to the conclusion that he had no regrets at what he had done.  “Then I suppose that eliminates any reason I had to preserve your insolent face.” 

“Commander, no!”  He ignored Rylen’s protest as he backhanded the grin off Oro’s face and then landed a decisive punch to the side of his head.  The second blow was more rewarding when he heard the sickening crack of the eye socket splitting. 

He kicked at the offending body when he turned to Rylen with a questioning expression.  This confrontation had been partially his idea to begin with.  Rylen gave him a helpless expression as he pointed to the doorway.  “Ser, the Heiress.”

It was then that Cullen looked back at the doorway to see her, standing at half the height of the royal guard and she staring stoically at the scene before her.  He knew that she was absorbing every detail.   _Maker’s breath, I should have been more careful!_   The leaking noble on the floor had been right, there was no escaping this now.  Not sure how to proceed, Cullen kept his features sternly neutral, a feat Rylen could not emulate. 

“Heiress” he bowed before her and held it.

“Commander Rutherford” a slight inclination of her head permitted him to rise.  “I should like to know why you resorted to such a display.”

“I have no excuse Heiress”

“That is not what I am asking.  I want to know what occurred that led you to these actions.”

Cullen tightened the grip on his pommel, mostly from habit then quickly released it as he turned to the guard wondering if he would take the fidgeting with his weapon as a threat.  The guard’s easy stance did not waiver and Cullen began to feel a faint flush creeping up his neck.  “Following the punishment of the Inquisitor, I had discovered that this man had abused her unjustly and without repercussion by taking advantage of his political ties.”

“You mean when they were engaged?” she supplied. 

“Yes Heiress.  He insulted our leader and disrespected the hospitality that the Inquisition had offered when he attacked us after we confronted him about his past actions.”  His mouth began to go dry, his tongue sticking to the insides of his cheek but he stood firm.  He knew he was just in his actions but all prior interactions with the Osai to this point had been unpredictable.  “It is my greatest regret that you were witness to such brutality.”

She tilted her head slightly to the side in a brief moment of confusion, then answered, “I recognize the respect intended behind the apology.  Thank you, but I need not be shielded from such things.”  She glanced down at the puddle of bruised nobility.  “This was an act of revenge, not justice.”

Hearing the obvious from so young a person caused Cullen’s lungs to constrict nearly to the point of suffocation.   _Alright, so maybe not entirely just in his actions._ Oro was beginning to stir.  Rylen made movements towards him before being stopped, “Leave him there.”  Turning back to Cullen, the Heiress changed the subject. “I think that it is time for us to join the others for dinner.  Commander Rutherford, would you please escort me?”

Cullen glanced at Rylen who shrugged, just as confused as he was.  He took a few steps towards the Heiress but stopped short, remembering that he should escort her on his right arm, the position reserved for those of higher rank.  He glanced down at his right arm, splattered in blood and even a chunk of skin was wedged into the edge of his gauntlet.  Before he could offer a protest she had already joined his side and slipped her arm around his as though oblivious to the bloodied vestments.  She continued her momentum, guiding them out into the hall.  Her guard followed in step behind them with Rylen at his side.

After rounding a corner, she started the conversation back up, Cullen remained looking forward, still uncertain of his fate but desperately trying to not show his shaking nerves.  Whatever happens, he cannot allow it to circle back to Itsasne.  “It is a general rule that our people avoid becoming overly involved with personal feelings when justice is concerned, as you were witness to this morning.  I have not had the opportunity until today to see the ramifications of allowing one’s emotions to override reason.” 

The words bit into Cullen sharper than serrated teeth.  She suddenly stopped walking and was mulling an idea around in her head before finally making a hand gesture to her guard.  He nodded slightly and stepped further backward from them, taking Rylen with him.  Not out of sight, but certainly out of earshot.

She turned to face Cullen, looking up in attempt to see him eye to eye, “Did doing that to him give you a feeling of satisfaction?”

There was no point in lying.  “Yes,” He let out a heavy sigh as though the weight of his actions rode on his breath, “Yes it did”

“Do you do that often, fall prey to your emotions?”

“No, I do understand protocol and the need for trials, it was just…this…[ _sigh_ ]…this was personal, like you said.”

“You felt that he would not receive justice from us for the offenses he made against your wife.  You were right.”

Cullen was slightly jarred at this.   _You were right?_   He waited for the next bit where he would be admonished or informed that the Matron Empress would demand punishment.  Nothing.  She resumed her position at his side, wrapping her arm back around his but this time her hand reached his.  She slipped her fingers in between his and squeezed lightly as she resumed her previous graceful pace toward the Great Hall.  She was so petit next to him, the small hand further emphasizing the contrast, but Cullen felt that it was she who carried him through the hall and to the main table. 

There was no doubt that his love and this amazingly intelligent child were related.  He now understood how Itsasne had been brought up and marveled at her depthless knowledge.  He released the Heiress at the side of her mother, pulling out a chair and leaving with a bow.  He took his seat on the far side of the other advisors, a handful of seats away from the Matron.  He couldn’t help but continue to watch the Heiress as she settled down to the meal before her.  His heart stopped the moment the Matron Empress noticed the traces of blood on her daughter’s sleeve and hands.  He felt a kick under the table and directed his attention to Josephine who sat across from him.

She hissed in a low tone meant only for them.  “What have you done?!”

Glancing at Leliana, he noticed her faint signals to her people who were scattered throughout the hall.  She must be letting them know to be ready for anything.  She then passed her hand over her cheek as she stared at Cullen.  He copied her motion and found that he was wiping Oro’s blood splatter from his face.  Catching motion out of the corner of his eye, he turned back to see the Matron Empress shake out a nearby napkin.  She handed it to her daughter who began to clean her hands, then resumed her conversation with the rest of the table. 

All three of the advisors were at a loss as to what to make of the unfolding events.  Leliana now noticed the state of his clothes and pointedly looked at him with wide eyes, wordlessly asking for an explanation.  He didn’t know how to offer one and ducked his head down to focus on his meal instead _._  

Thinking of the past few hours he couldn’t help but allow himself a slight smile.  The Inquisitor’s people had never seemed as foreign to him as they did now, it was no wonder she had not spoken of them often.  Even witnessing their behaviors and customs he was unsure how he could summarize the experience to another person.

Dinner seemed to be going smoothly for a while.  Until the corridor doors burst open with a loud bang that reverberated through the hall.  Conversations ebbed down as a woman who identified herself as Matron Oro strode into the hall at a measured pace, confidence stiffened her squared shoulders as she stared Cullen down.  Behind her she had two of her own retainers assisting her worthless son who was still barely cognizant enough to even know where he was.  Cullen began to feel the crushing weight of dread sneak up on him but quickly shook it off by taking a sip of wine.  No, this time he would wait to see how this played out before allowing himself to worry. 

Looking about the hall and feeling as though she had a sufficient audience, Matron Oro addressed the crowd, “I demand recompense!”  Her tone calm and even, apparently it was a trait of Osai nobility to have such a restrained manner.  “Look at what that barbarian has done.  This is unacceptable and I demand…”

The Matron Empress raised her hand to stop the diatribe, “I will do no such thing.”

When no explanation was offered, the Matron Oro looked back to her shuddering son, then back at the Empress.  He was no doubt freezing from the loss of blood, but she wanted the drama of his presence to support her argument. 

This time color flushed her face but there was still no emotion to her words, “Look at him majesty, he is the son of a noble family and a guest…”

Again, the Empress cut her short.  “He is the son of a noble family who should have taught him how to better behave himself.  He is a guest of the _Inquisition_  whose hospitality he has abused.  He should have acquainted himself with the customs of the lands in which he finds himself.” 

 

Cullen could not believe his ears.  He began to recognize the workings of the game, recalling the bits and pieces he’d retained from the Winter Palace.  Bull’s words rang in his ears,  _‘her family is playing with you.  The both of you.’_   They had wanted this to happen.  He and Itsasne had been pawns and carefully placed to culminate to this checkmate.  Cullen stood and assumed a relaxed, but stern stance as he folded his arms across his chest and watched the last moves of the game play out. 

Commander Baladin rose from his seat nearby and addressed Cullen but his voice was raised for the entire hall to hear.  “Commander Rutherford, were you attacked by this man?”

Matron Oro was scrambling to keep the focus on her, “I hardly see how this matters.”

Another brother had arisen from his seat.  “It matters greatly if your son attacked a member of the Imperial family.”

Her mouth began to flap like a fish as comprehension began to dawn in her mind.  A third brother rose to his feet.  “Inform us all Matron Oro.  Did he, or did he not attack our sister’s widower?  On the day of her death no less.”

The final three brothers walked to stand beside Cullen, one of them speaking to Cullen while staring down the Matron Oro, “I believe that the Heiress was even a witness to Asier’s crimes.  Is this not true brother?”

Matron Oro cowered backward to be nearer her son who was slipping in and out of consciousness.  Her guards had abandoned them.  Her voice finally shrieked in panic and desperation.  “Council members!  I implore you!  This is unjust!  This was a scheme to vilify our house!”  She rushed to one Council member in particular, “Dearest aunt!  Please help them see reason!”

Her pleas were answered with a disdainful sneer.  "Nepotism is a poison that undermines authority and good order.  No one can be treated special because no one  _is_  special.  Your son acted atrociously and now all of you will pay for his idiocy.  I present a motion for the Council to have all land, titles, and forces associated with the House of Oro confiscated by the Imperial family until such a time as Asier Oro can return to Bosquel for proper judgment"

This ‘aunt’ must have seen that Matron Oro was drowning politically and she was not about to be sucked down with her.    A chorus of agreement passed through the hall as the other members of the council supported the movement. 

“Captain Abaroa,” the Empress’ voice rose over the simmering whispers.  “Get these stains on our honor out of here.”  The youngest looking of the brothers snapped his fingers which prompted six Osai guards to deftly sweep to the center of the hall and drag out the two offenders with scarcely a pause in stride.   The Captain executed a curt bow to the Empress then followed the soldiers.  Their exit had drawn all attention to the main doors which now held the silhouette of three newcomers.    

Cullen felt overwhelming apprehension when he recognized the trio.  He felt at a loss to understand what was happening.  There stood the Inquisitor, supported on either side by Dorian and Knight-Commander Barris.  Only a discerning eye would recognize that she used the two men to completely support her weight as her injuries couldn’t be healed enough for her to do anything under her own power.  He fought the urge to run to her, to capture her in his arms and whisk her away.  Again, he steeled himself and continued to watch the gears of the game continue to grind forward. 

The first thing that caught his attention was her new armor.  She wore rust tanned leather pauldrons that were trimmed with short black fur.  The bodice was a black dyed leather, marking it as medium weight armor suitable for a rogue.  Hanging from the bodice were swaths of red fabric embroidered with elaborate gold filigree and draped along each side.  The thin gauntlets matched the metal greaves which clinked lightly on the stone floor, announcing her approach.  The tiny, pearl sized white flowers of Maker’s breath had been flecked into her obsession hair which was piled high with perfect corkscrew curls cascading to her shoulders. 

According to the game, her attire not only separated her from her former ties to Bosquel, but proudly proclaimed her permanent association with southern Thedas, more specifically with him.  There could be no doubt that her new armor was an homage to Cullen’s, a matching set no less.  His insides twisted with appreciative pride as she walked with perfect poise down the hall giving hardly the faintest hint that she suffered from her injuries.  Both Dorian and Ser Barris were in their finest ceremonial armor, signifying the Inquisitor’s military might through the alliance of both foreign allies and the Templars.  A breath fell from Cullen and he found that he had troubling finding it again, almost forgetting he needed to breathe.   _Oh, blessed Andraste, she was astounding._

Suddenly he found the three of them standing before him.  Itsasne smiled warmly, “Commander, if you would?”  Her hand made a sly wave to let him know that she wished to take her seat on the throne.  Cullen helped her place her arm on his in a manner that resembled him escorting her, but also allowed him to fully support her.  On top of the dais, she took her seat on the Inquisition’s throne and Cullen remained at her side. 

The Matron Empress took this as her cue.  She and the heiress walked up to the dais side-by-side.  The remaining five brothers filed in behind them, then the heads of the Council trailed towards the back. 

The Empress dipped into a polite bow.  “Inquisitor.  The nation of Bosquel has seen the danger that the Inquisition is working to correct.  The world faces imminent doom without the corrective efforts of the Inquisition.  We would like to pledge our alliance and resources to assist in seeing that the world is righted once more.”

Each house that was on the Council stepped forward and declared their pledge to the Inquistion.  At first it was typical coin, but then the houses began to present large quantities of soldiers.  The numbers quickly became staggering as Cullen rushed to add the sums in his head.  A third- all of the troops offered would increase their current forces by a whole third.  The Inquisitor’s sacrifice had managed to maintain the established alliances and bolster their existing forces with experienced fighters.  Cullen looked down at the formidable beauty as she gracefully accepted each offer in turn.  She knew this would happen and took the drastic steps necessary to see it through.  He could feel himself falling for his wife all over again. 

A sudden movement at the front of the hall caught his attention.  He could not hear it, but he could see a heated argument being exchanged between Dorian and Varric.  After a short time, Varric reluctantly handed Dorian a hefty purse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be sugar coated fluff, perhaps some feel good smut ;-)


	21. A Costly Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen struggles to help Itsasne manage her withdrawal symptoms. No matter what he or the healers do, things get worse.

Late that evening Cullen assisted Itsasne up to _their_ room.  He smiled to himself how naturally the thought came to him.  In their room there was already a warm bath drawn and placed near the fire.  It must be the largest tub that Skyhold had to offer, undoubtedly it had been chosen by Nemira who rightly assumed that the Inquisitor would not be bathing alone.  A bolt of lightning lit up the wall of windows leading to the balcony.  The soft patter of rain followed only moments later.  Cullen eased Itsasne down on the couch and began to help her out of her armor. 

“So, do you hate me now?”  She smiled as she said it, but Cullen could hear the reservation in her voice.

“Of course not.  The past two days have probably aged me considerably, but at least now our battle against Corypheus doesn’t seem as daunting.”  He placed a delicate kiss on her lips, the constant worry about her healing regulating the strength behind his every touch. 

“Even though our marriage added you to the ranks of nobility?  Surely that is a scandal for you back home.”  She laughed with some reservation.  “What will your family think?”

“Pray don’t mention them right now.  I can’t even begin to think how I will explain all of this.  My last letter to Mia hardly mentioned our relationship.”  He also found he couldn’t contain his amusement at his suddenly changed circumstances.  He laughed, “She will be beside herself at how events have escalated.”

“Oh, Cullen.”  She held his jaw with her left hand and rubbed her thumb over his scar.  “I love when you are happy.  Your smile is so beautiful.” 

Cullen kept his contented smile as he finished unworking all of her straps and buckles.  He took his time to ensure that none of his motions jerked her too hard or that any of the pieces pinched at her skin.  She dozed lightly as he worked, enjoying the attention.  She woke once he began to remove her smalls, cocking an eye at him.  He didn’t answer her gesture, mearly scooped her up and lowered her into the waiting water.  He retrieved a vial that Dorian had given him earlier in the night.  It was oil infused with elf root and emberium that was intended to help with her healing.  As he stood over the tub with the vial in hand, he paused.  She floated in the water, back up with her arms folded, resting on the lip of one of the shorter sides.  The jagged lines still seemed raw after all of the hours spent in the infirmary.  The body could only heal so fast even with the assistance of magic.  The lines made her back look like shattered glass, some of the fine trails wondered down her arms. 

“Cullen, are you alright?”  Her concern pierced through him.

“I think I should be asking you.”

She glanced over her shoulder at what little of her back the limited movement allowed.  “It only hurts a little.  Solas said that my greater problem will probably start sometime tomorrow.” 

It was then that her mood fell.  He knew that she was referring to the withdrawal symptoms that were due to surface.  Cullen crouched next to her, placing his hand on hers.  “I will be right here with you.  We can endure this together.” 

He had no wish to add to her worry by telling her about his relapse.  He wasn’t worried.  He knew what to expect from the symptoms and he had her encouragement as a source of strength this time.  Although, knowing what to expect made it somewhat easier, but no less painful.  No, he would keep that episode to himself since she needed him more than he needed her. 

“Oh!  I almost forgot.  I have something for you.  It’s in the left pocket, just there in the floor.”  Cullen dug through the pile of discarded bits of armor.  He reached inside a pocket and pulled out a small signet ring.  The top had the crest of the Matron Empress finely engraved on it, the band was thin and meant for a woman’s petit hand. 

“I know that this probably isn’t the ideal proposal, but I feel that I have waited too long to let you know how much I love you.  I was drawn to you from our earliest acquaintance.  You had found an admirable new purpose in life and your dedication has always inspired me.  I do not know how you could be so humble when it is I who is unworthy of you.  As lacking as I am and with as much chaos I have brought to your life, will you still have me?”

Cullen was at a loss.  His emotions fumbled within him leaving him speechless. 

“Did I do it wrong?  I-I thought your custom call for an exchange of rings?”

Cullen smiled back from his seat on the floor.  “Yes, but this one is a bit too small for me to wear.”

“To wear?  Oh, yes…right.  I guess that does make more sense.”  She slunk in the water a bit at her embarrassment. 

“It appears we both have a penchant for bungling proposals.” He rose to his feet, then kissed the top of her head.  “My answer is ‘yes’ by the way.  Nothing will ever keep me from you.”

She instantly relaxed.  “Good, now get in here.”  While he undressed she spoke out into the room, her head leaned back and eyes closed.  “That ring was given to me by my mother shortly before she died of illness.  It has been passed down to the first born daughter of the Empire for centuries, which goes to explain my severe depression when I realized I would never meet those expectations.”

Cullen eased himself in the water, helping her scoot forward to make space. “Shouldn’t your sister have it since this is the seal of the Matron Empress?”

Itsasne shifted to let him settle down with his back resting against the wall of the tub.  She lounged between his legs and had her back against his chest.  Cullen stiffened at the feel of the half-healed shredded flesh against his, but he soon released his tension as she melted in his arms. 

“When the first Heiress was born I offered it to her.  She told me she felt like a thief and bade me to keep it.  The ring she has is a copy.  A new one for a new line.”  She laid her arms on his.  “You are all that is left to me in this world.  It is fitting that you should keep it, so that at least I was able to pass it on to someone.”  Cullen slipped the ring over his pinky finger.  He wrapped his arms around her torso, coiling a little tighter, hoping to take away the sorrow he heard in her voice. 

“The rain reminds me of our time at the lake together."  She floated deeper and rested her head on his chest.  "Tell me more about Honnleath when you were growing up."

He released his hold to caress her weary body.  The oil in the water allowed his calloused fingers to glide over her skin with calming ease.  He ran them along her stomach, ribs, chest and arms, tracing imaginary patterns as he spoke of the mundane daily life in Honnleath.  Her eyes were shut but she would smile whenever he mentioned his family.  He lost track of how long they lay there, lost in the comfort of happy memories.  Cullen hadn't even realized he was drifting to sleep until the water lapped at him from Itsasne turning around in the tub.    

She rested on her knees between his legs.  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled them together into a kiss.  Cullen let his hands grip the sides of the tub, unsure where was safe to touch.  His response was gentle but she pressed harder to deepen the kiss.  He enjoyed the feeling of being so ardently desired.  Before pulling away, she flicked her tongue over the scar on his lip to send shivers down his spine.

“Cullen.”  Her voice was soft, her eyes desperate.  “Make love to me.”

 “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”  He stilled, trying to suppress his want to devour her regardless of her answer. 

“We’ll take it easy.  I trust you.”  She was now straddling him, pressing her body against his chest and most notably against his growing erection.  He let out a hungry moan as he planted feather soft kisses long her neck that trailed along her shoulders.  She rolled her hips against him and he bit playfully into her shoulder causing her to suck in quick breath that was exhaled as a pleasured sigh.  The water was becoming an annoyance as their movements increased.  In one deft movement, Cullen stood and brought Itsasne up with him.  Compared with the weight of his armor, she was nothing. 

She giggled as he twirled her to the ground in front of the fire.  "Here, I want you right here."  
He chuckled at her romantic notion to have sex by the fire.  Considering their wet state, it was probably the most logical.  Coherent thought about logic drifted away as she reached for his hard cock, pumping it delicately.  His knees gave slightly at her touch.  She pressed her fingertips to his chest to guide him to the floor.  He happily obeyed, mesmerized by her impish grin.  He never took his eyes off her as he lay down on the plush carpet. 

She started by getting on all fours between his legs, laying heavy kisses and a few nips up along his legs.  She raked her fingers down the inside of his thighs making them shake reflexively.  He propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she turned her attention to his hips, kissing and flicking her tongue in the V grove below his abs.  His cock rubbed against her face, even leaving a few drops of precum behind.  She smiled and laughed each time his breath hitched or hissed in response.  Her teasing was a blessed torture.  When she cupped his balls and swallowed his cock whole without warning he was drowning in pleasure.  His upper body fell lax to the floor and he surrendered himself to her whims. 

She released him and had her tongue round the tip of his eager head.  His cock twitched in her light grip.  Itsasne then crawled over him, straddling his waist and planting her hands on his shoulders.  She leaned in, she panted in his ear, “I have been dying to fuck you ever since I heard what you did to Oro.”

His cock was suddenly plunged into her wet pussy.  He could feel her dripping around him, spilling onto him, sending a quiver that spiked through him.  She dragged her hands along his chest as she sat up straight.  When she dug her fingers into her hair, her silhouette became the picture of desirable sin.  Her breasts hung in flawless teardrops, her hips rounded perfectly across him and her face lit by the fire was glowing with ecstasy.  He let her choose the pace.  He enjoyed the thought of being ‘used’ for her lustful needs.  She rode him in slow adoration; every churn of her hips elicited a new wave of desire for them both.  Pleasure prickled beneath his skin.  Eventually she fell forward, catching herself with her hands beside his ribs.  Cullen took advantage and reached forward to pull at her waist.  She responded almost instinctively, adjusting her feet to move her whole body forward as Cullen brought her cunt to his face.  She kneeled over him, her pleasured sounds changed as he lapped at her essence.  “Cullen.  Oh, **Cullen!** ”  His name was the only word in her vocabulary as he delicately sucked at her clit and darted his tongue in and out of her.  His smile was growing too broad as his pride swelled when he felt the shivers working through her body.  She rose and shifted back down his body to sit on his throbbing erection once more.

She rolled her hips to feel him deep within her.  “ _Oh-_ make me.  Make me come for you!”

He instantly seized her breasts, circling his thumbs over her nipples to hear her feral moan.  His mouth then took over for one hand as he sucked, bit and teased her breast fiercely to match her increased pace as she fucked him.  He could hear the change in her breathing; he could feel her muscles begin to tense.  Cullen reached down to force her orgasm out of her with his fingers playing on her clit.  His other hand grasped around her neck in a soft squeeze he knew she loved. She came hard around him to the point her body was taken by small convulsions.  She screamed at her release that ended in a sweet mewl.  Cullen slammed up into her and was soon spent after a few more strikes.  Itsasne collapsed on top of him, but instantly rolled over to her side, catching her breath.  He rolled with her and pulled her into a hug by pressing her back to his chest. 

“Someday, I want you to take me back there, to the lake at Honnleath.  I want to waste an entire day doing nothing.” She nuzzled deeper into his embrace.  “Cullen, please promise me.”

He grinned against her neck.  “I swear it.”

***

In the following weeks, Cullen was thankful for that one night.  There was never another opportunity for such intimacy since then due to her crumbling health.  In addition to the promised soldiers and Commander Baladin as an ambassador, a few healers also stayed behind from Bosquel.  The Osai healers knew her medical history and would check her once a week or more depending on how bad the day was.  They constantly reminded Cullen that he should be thankful she was doing so well mentally.  He was told that usually the punishment drove those inflicted to suicide from the depression and pain of the withdrawal.  Her strong sense of purpose and support from the Inquisition kept her alive.  Cullen fully understood the concept as it easily applied to himself as well, but he still felt that she was shouldn’t have been suffering as much as she was.  In the evenings she was only able to sleep if he wrapped her tight in a blanket, crushing her in his arms to curb the discomfort of her shivers. 

They shared many of the same symptoms, loss of strength suddenly, intense headaches, moodiness, and uncontrollable shaking.  Where she differed was the nausea.  Hers was full on vomiting which didn’t help when coupled with the loss of appetite.  He, as well as the rest of her inner circle of friends, worked hard to help her hide her body’s weakness.  She made every effort to keep up appearances around Skyhold.  Her companions would walk near if she needed to lean on them if her legs failed.  During meetings or when around others, they would watch for her tells and create excuses to hurry her off to a quiet place to wait out the symptoms. 

He now paced the battlements, deep in thought as to how to approach managing her illness. He stared off at the peaceful scenery while rubbing his neck in frustration.  _She shouldn’t be this ill._   His mind mulled over how quickly things had progressed in such a short time. 

*

They had finally marched for the Arbor Wilds.  By that point, she was adjusting to the to the patterns of her illness and rode at the front of the army with Cullen.  Ever since she had traded her old armor for the one matching Cullen’s, as well as the confirmation of their union, Leliana had picked up on rumors that it bolstered morale considerably.  The soldiers saw the two of them as an indestructible force that was driven by faith.  Cullen had noticed a new fervor in how the men fought when compared to Adamant.  There, they had faced their task with forced determination to see their goal achieved.  In the Wilds he saw the faces of the devout who knew in their bones the righteousness of their cause and a hope that had bloomed into confidence that victory was already theirs.  The transformation from the weary farmhands with scavenged weapons at Haven was a distant memory to the seasoned warriors who now marched with a steady resolve.

The elation at the victory in the Wilds was short lived.  The advisors and Inquisitor had made it back to Skyhold long before the mass of the army, since a smaller party was able to move faster.  They had needed to plan their next move quickly to keep the pressure on Corypheus’ forces.  Before they could determine how to best use the victory to their advantage, the war room filled with an ominous green light announcing that Corypheus would not wait.  He had torn the breach open once more and the glow from the fade bled through the windows.

“It is time to end this.”  Itsasne seemed unfazed by looming doom. 

Josephine was leery, “But the army is still days away, we can’t send you alone.”

Cullen was looking out the window when she slipped her hand into his.  
"I won’t be alone.  We go together."  Each knew it was a wasted argument to try to convince the other to stay behind.  Cullen would never forget how she looked up at him with a fire in her eye and love in her smile.  They were both ready to face their destiny, regardless of the cost. 

The battle had been hard fought with more than one close brush with death.  Corypheus had been defeated and the following days became a blur of activity.  The Inquisition was suddenly everyone’s friend and dignitaries were pouring in with congratulations and coin.   No one wanted to be found on the wrong side of the victor.  Cullen hardly noticed much of the bustle.  He was preoccupied with Itsasne.  She had held together well when facing Corypheus, but following the battle she was beyond exhausted and was not recovering at a healthy rate. 

*

His thoughts on the past were interrupted by a chorus of activity below in the courtyard.  Looking down, he only caught a glimpse, but knew instantly that it was her, being carried by Dorian as the mage ran.  Cullen leapt down the stairs of the battlements.  His heart sank, weighing heavy in the pit of his lungs.  A massive crowd had gathered at the infirmary.  He didn’t need to utter a word as the crowd recognized him and parted hastily.  When he reached the building, Baladin was shoving an Osai healer out of the front door. 

He was furious.  “You said this couldn’t happen!  You swore that this would **never** happen!  She almost died because of your incompetence!”  He landed two punches that sent the mage tumbling to the ground. 

Cullen rushed to Baladin to hold him back from the whimpering healer.  “’It is impossible.  You need to make peace with this reality.’  Weren’t those your exact words?!?”  He was spitting in rage, his voice going horse from the volume and unrestrained emotion.

“Itzal, calm down for a moment.  Itzal!”  Cullen fought to gain the Osai Commander’s attention.  “What happened?”

“That son-of-a-bitch nearly killed her!”  He slunk back from Cullen, staring at him with pained eyes.  “Thank the Maker one of your healers got to her first this time.  Dear brother, I’m so sorry.  Our man, he…he gave the wrong diagnosis.  They haven’t been giving her the right treatments.  They’ve been making it worse.  She isn’t ill from withdrawal.”

Itzal told him in a low tone the correct diagnosis, obviously still in shock at the news.  Cullen’s world shattered.  He could feel the pieces crack and fall all around him.  He was deaf to all noise, numb to any sensation and blind to the crowd that watched his reaction intensely.  He no longer cared.  Nothing mattered any more, it was all crashing down on him.  He collapsed to his knees.  He raised shaking hands to his face, not knowing what to do.  What could he do?  He was utterly helpless.  Itzal knelt beside him, a hand on his back to comfort him.

“How long?”

“Three months at least.”

Cullen choked at the timeframe, his tears now poured down his face.    The noise of the crowd changed.  Cullen paid it no mind as he failed to reign in his emotions.  He didn’t give a damn who saw him in such a state at that moment.  A delicate hand ran her fingers through his hair.  He looked up to see Itsasne had come out to him.  She was supported by Dorian at her side, whose smug grin wasn’t annoying for once. 

Three months.  Counting back, it had to have been their first night together.  That was when it happened.  Cullen adjusted his posture so that he knelt on one knee, his strength still weak from shock.  He reached out with both hands to capture her ripe hips and placed a kiss on her slightly round belly.  His affectionate gesture was understood among the crowd and was received with uproarious enthusiasm. He could feel Itsasne shaking with a happy laughter she couldn’t contain.  He forced himself to his feet and swept her up in his arms.  The kiss they shared was the epitome of all that they were to each other - love, strength, comfort, faith, lust – every possible emotion piled into one moment.  Everything was beautiful and perfect with the world in that instant. 

When Cullen set her down, neither could stop grinning like fools.  For all that she had given him, her undying devotion, her boundless love, even given of herself to others; he was finally able to give something to her that she had known to be hopeless.  A child.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final fluff about a miracle pregnancy was inspired by the true story of some friends of ours who tried for over six years for children and had finally given up. They adopted five siblings from foster care and were thrilled with their perfect family. After about a year, the wife became pregnant with twins. The only explanation the doctors offered was that it might have been stress? Who knows, but I thought it worked well to end my story on a fun, happy note that was plausible.


	22. Portrait (ART!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was finally able to get a commission for my fic. Here is a portrait of my sweet couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commission Info: [lena's art](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com/commissions)


End file.
